"I  must  have  this!"  she  said.     "  What  do  you  ask  for  it?"  [See  page  31. 


LABOULAYE'S 
FAIRY     BOOK 


FAIRY  TALES  OF  ALL  NATIONS. 


BY    EDOUARD    LABOULAYE, 

MEMBER   OF  THE   INSTITUTE  OF   FRANCE. 

TRANSLATED  BY  MARY  L.  BOOTH, 

Translator  of  "Martin's  History  of  France,"  &c.,  &c 


NEW    YORK: 

CARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN     SQUARE. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  one  thousand  eight  hundred  and 
sixty-six,  by 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District  of  New  York 


11 

7 


TO    MADEMOISELLE 
GABRIELLE    DE    LABOULAYE. 

MY  DEAR  GRANDDAUGHTER  : 
You  are  now  two  years  old,  and  no  longer 
a  child.    You  will  soon  begin  to  learn  your 
letters,  and  to  enter  upon  that  rude  task  of 
education  which  will  last  all  your  life.    Per- 
mit your  grandfather  to  offer  you  this  book, 
full  of  beautiful  pictures,  which  will  amuse 
your  curious  eyes.     You  will  wish  to  know 
what  they  mean ;   for  this,  you  must  read 
them,  as  I  expect  that  you  will  do.     May 
my  little  heroes  charm  you  with  their  sto- 
ries, and  spare  you  useless  tears  ! 
Some  day,  doubtless,  when  you  are  a  tall  girl  of  fifteen,  you 
will  throw  aside  this  book  with  your  doll,  and  perhaps  even 
wonder  how  your  grandfather,  with  his  gray  beard,  could  have 

248955 


vi  Dedication. 

had  so  little  sense  as  to  waste  his  time  on  such  trifles.  Be 
not  too  severe,  my  dear  Gabrielle  ;  grant  me  five  or  six  years' 
indulgence.  If  God  spares  your  life,  you,  too,  will  have  chil- 
dren, and  grandchildren  perhaps ;  and  experience  will  teach 
you  only  too  quickly  that  the  truest  and  sweetest  things  in 
life  are  not  those  which  we  see,  but  those  of  which  we  dream. 
Then,  in  repeating  my  tales  to  the  young  folks  whom  I  shall 
never  see,  you  will  remember  him  who  loved  you  when  you 
were  little  ;  and  perhaps  you  will  find  pleasure  in  talking  to 
them  of  the  old  man  who  delighted  in  trying  to  amuse  children, 
while  they  will  listen  with  sparkling  eyes,  and  be  proud  of  their 
great-grandfather.  I  desire  no  other  fame ;  this  immortality 
suffices  me. 

With  these  words,  I  respectfully  lay  at  your  feet  my  Fairy 
Book,  and  subscribe  myself,  with  a  hearty  kiss, 

YOUR  OLD  GRANDFATHER. 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 


TO  MY  YOUNG  FRIENDS  IN  AMERICA: 

DEAR  CHILDREN, — When  you  are  large,  and  are  studying 
the  glorious  history  of  your  country,  you  will  be  told  that 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  there  is  an  old  country  by 
the  name  of  France.  You  will  also  be  told  that  almost  a 
hundred  years  ago,  when  your  grandfathers  were  fighting  for 
their  independence,  it  was  in  France  that  they  found  sympa- 
thizing hearts  and  devoted  hands.  It  was  from  France  that 
the  friend  of  Washington  came,  the  brave  and  noble  La  Fay- 
ette — a  name  which  also  belongs  to  the  history  of  the  United 
States. 

Years  have  passed,  and  nothing  has  disturbed  the  friend- 
ship of  a  century's  growth  between  America  and  France — 
that  friendship  which  you,  my  children,  I  am  sure,  will  pre- 
serve. And  it  is  in  order  to  keep  up  this  mutual  affection 
that  I  send  you  these  tales,  which  have  amused  your  young 
friends  in  France,  and  which  I  hope  will  amuse  you  also. 
He  who  writes  them  is  not  a  stranger  to  your  fathers  and 
mothers  ;  he  was  heart  and  soul  with  them  in  the  trials  which 
they  have  nobly  passed  through.  To-day  he  would  esteem 
himself  happy  could  he  make  you  laugh  or  dry  up  your  tears  ; 
and  nothing  would  touch  him  more  than  sometimes  to  think 
that  over  yonder,  on  the  other  side  of  the  ocean,  there  were 
young  gentlemen  and  charming  young  ladies  who  forgot  the 
hours  in  listening  to  the  tales  of  their  friend,  the  old  French- 
man, 

EDOUARD  LABOULAYE. 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE. 


PROMPTED  in  part  by  the  desire  to  please  a  certain  Prince 
Charming  of  my  acquaintance,  I  have  amused  the  leisure  of 
an  arduous  undertaking  by  collecting  the  exquisite  tales 
which  M.  Laboulaye  has  been  in  the  habit  for  some  years 
past  of  scattering  through  various  books  and  journals,  and 
which  can  not  fail  to  delight  both  young  and  old  by  their 
sparkling  wit  and  richness  of  fancy.  The  brilliant  author  of 
"  Paris  in  America"  needs  no  introduction  to  American  read- 
ers. One  of  the  first  humorists,  as  well  as  one  of  the  first  ju- 
dicial writers  of  France,  it  is  his  favorite  recreation  to  amuse 
children  with  tales  wherein  the  grotesque  veils  a  keen  and 
subtle  satire  rarely  equaled.  The  style  is  inimitable,  and  the 
fancies  are  not  surpassed  even  by  those  of  the  famed  Hans 
Christian  Andersen. 

The  selection  now  offered  to  the  American  public  was  first 
submitted  to  the  approval  of  the  author,  who  has  kindly  signi- 
fied his  full  approbation  of  it,  and  furnished  a  preface  written 
expressly  for  this  edition.  "  The  composition  of  the  volume  is 
excellent,"  he  says,  "  and  I  shall  take  great  pleasure  in  seeing 
myself  in  an  American  dress.  I  am  especially  delighted  that 
Abdallah  finds  a  place  in  the  collection.  This  little  volume 
cost  me  more  than  a  year's  study.  There  is  not  a  detail  in  it 
that  is  not  borrowed  from  some  narrative  of  Eastern  travel, 
and  I  read  the  Koran  through  twice  (a  wearisome  task)  in  or- 
der to  extract  therefrom  a  morality  that  might  put  Christians 

A  2 


x  Translators  Preface. 

to  the  blush,  though  practiced  by  Arabs.  My  granddaughter, 
who  is  now  five  years  old,  and  is  going  to  learn  English,  is 
very  proud  to  think  that  her  name  will  be  knowr^in  Amer- 
ica." 

The  dedication  to  Mademoiselle  Gabrielle  de  Laboulaye, 
the  author's  granddaughter,  here  alluded  to,  is  that  prefixed 
to  the  Contes  Bleus,  an  elegant  volume  published  some  three 
years  since,  and  from  which  several  of  these  tales  are  taken. 
It  was  at  first  designed  to  omit  Abdallah,  which  forms  a  sep- 
arate volume  in  the  original.  I  am  happy  to  have  been  able 
to  embrace  this  beautiful  story  of  Oriental  life  in  the  volume 
which  I  offer  to  the  perusal  of  my  young  American  friends, 
persuaded  that  the  name  of  the  illustrious  author  will  thereby 
become  a  household  word  among  them,  as  it  is  already  among 
their  parents,  and  as  it  will  be  in  history. 

MARY  L.  BOOTH. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

PERLINO *3 

WON   AND   FINETTE 45 

THE   CASTLE   OF   LIFE 8l 

DESTINY IQ8 

THE  TWELVE   MONTHS IJ4 

SSWANDA,  THE   PIPER !22 

THE   GOLD    BREAD !27 

THE   STORY   OF   THE   NOSES 133 

THE   THREE   CITRONS 13^ 

THE   STORY   OF   COQUERICO 157 

KING   BIZARRE   AND   PRINCE  CHARMING 164 

ABDALLAH   .                                          2o8 


FAIRY    BOOK. 


P  E  RL  IN  O. 

A    NEAPOLITAN    TALE. 

I. 

VIOLET. 

MANY  years  ago  there  lived  at  Passtum  a  merchant  by  the 
name  of  Beppo,  who  was  as  good  as  bread,  as  sweet  as  honey, 
and  as  rich  as  the  sea.  He  was  a  widower,  and  had  but  one 
daughter,  whom  he  loved  like  his  right  hand.  Violet,  for  that 
was  the  name  of  this  beloved  child,  was  as  fair  as  a  lily,  and 
as  blooming  as  a  rose.  She  had  long  black  tresses,  eyes  as 
blue  as  the  sky,  cheeks  as  velvety  as  a  butterfly's  wing,  and 
lips  like  a  twin  cherry.  Add  to  this  the  wit  of  a  demon,  the 
grace  of  a  seraph,  the  figure  of  Venus,  and  the  fingers  of  a 
fairy,  and  you  will  understand  that  neither  young  nor  old  could 
help  loving  her  at  first  sight. 

When  Violet  was  fifteen  years  old,  Beppo  began  to  think 
about  marrying  her.  "  The  orange-tree,"  thought  he,  "  brings 
forth  its  flower  without  knowing  who  will  gather  it,  and  the 
father  watches  over  his  daughter  for  long  years  like  the  apple 
of  his  eye,  only  that  a  stranger  may  rob  him  of  his  treasure 
some  fine  day  without  even  saying  "  thank  you."  Where  shall 


14  v  "KSbfy '  Book. 

'I  find  a  husband  worthy  of  my  Violet  ?  No  matter,  she  is  rich 
enough  to  choose  whom  she  likes.  She  is  so  beautiful  and 
witty  that  she  would  tame  a  tiger  should  she  undertake  it." 

The  good  Beppo  often  tried  to  talk  to  his  daughter  of  mar- 
riage, but  he  might  as  well  have  flung  his  words  to  the  wind. 
No  sooner  had  he  touched  this  chord  than  Violet  cast  down 
her  eyes  and  complained  of  headache ;  upon  which  her  poor 
father,  more  troubled  than  a  monk  that  loses  his  memory  in  the 
midst  of  his  sermon,  directly  changed  the  conversation,  and 
took  from  his  pocket  some  gift  that  he  always  had  in  store — 
a  ring,  a  bracelet,  or  a  gold  thimble,  whereupon  Violet  kissed 
him,  and  the  sun  returned  after  the  shower. 

One  day,  however,  when  Beppo,  more  prudent  than  usual, 
had  begun  where  he  generally  ended,  and  Violet  held  in  her 
hands  a  necklace  so  beautiful  that  it  was  impossible  for  her 
to  be  sulky,  the  good  man  returned  to  the  attack.  "  Oh,  love 
and  joy  of  my  heart,  staff  of  my  old  age,  and  crown  of  my  gray 
hairs  !"  said  he,  caressing  her, "  shall  I  never  see  you  married  ? 
Do  you  not  feel  that  I  am  growing  old  ?  My  gray  beard  tells 
me  every  day  that  it  is  time  to  choose  you  a  protector.  Why 
don't  you  do  like  other  women  ?  do  you  not  see  that  they  are 
all  dying  to  marry  ?  What  is  a  husband  ? — a  bird  in  a  cage, 
that  sings  whatever  tune  you  please.  If  your  poor  mother 
was  living,  she  would  tell  you  that  she  never  shed  tears  on  ac- 
count of  not  having  her  way ;  she  was  always  queen  and  em- 
press at  home.  I  dared  not  breathe  before  her  any  more  than 
before  you,  and  I  can  not  console  myself  for  my  freedom." 

"  Father,"  said  Violet,  playfully  chucking  him  under  the 
chin, "  you  are  the  master,  and  it  is  for  you  to  command.  Dis- 
pose of  my  hand — make  your  own  choice.  I  will  marry  when 
you  like  and  whom  you  like  ;  I  only  ask  one  thing." 

"  Be  it  what  it  may,  I  will  grant  it,"  cried  Beppo,  charmed 
at  an  obedience  to  which  he  was  not  accustomed. 


Per  lino.  1 5 

"  Well,  father,  all  that  I  desire  is  that  my  husband  shall  not 
look  like  a  dog." 

"  What  a  childish  idea !"  exclaimed  Beppo,  radiant  with  joy. 
"  Men  are  right  in  saying  that  beauty  and  folly  go  together. 
If  you  did  not  resemble  your  mother,  could  you  be  guilty  of 
such  absurdities !  Do  you  believe  that  a  man  of  sense  like 
me — do  you  believe  that  the  richest  merchant  in  Paestum 
would  be  stupid  enough  to  accept  a  son-in-law  with  a  dog's 
face  ?  Be  easy ;  I  will  choose  for  you,  or,  rather,  you  shall 
choose  the  handsomest  and  most  amiable  of  men.  Were  he 
a  prince,  I  am  rich  enough  to  buy  him  for  you." 

A  few  days  after,  Beppo  gave  a  great  dinner,  to  which  he 
invited  all  the  flower  of  the  youth  for  twenty  leagues  around. 
The  repast  was  magnificent ;  the  guests  ate  much  and  drank 
more ;  every  one  was  at  his  ease,  and  spoke  from  the  fullness 
of  his  heart.  When  dessert  was  served,  Beppo  withdrew  to  a 
corner  of  the  room,  and,  taking  Violet  on  his  lap,  whispered  to 
her, "  My  dear  child,  look  at  that  handsome,  blue-eyed  young 
man,  with  his  hair  parted  in  the  middle  ?  Do  you  think  that 
a  woman  would  be  unhappy  with  such  a  cherub  ?" 

"  Don't  think  of  it,  my  dear  father !"  said  Violet,  laughing ; 
"he  looks  exactly  like  a  greyhound." 

"  It  is  true,"  cried  Beppo,  "  he  really  does  look  like  a  grey- 
hound. Where  were  my  eyes  that  I  did  not  see  it  ?  But  that 
fine-looking  captain,  with  his  cropped  head,  stiff  cravat,  prom- 
inent chest,  and  protruding  eyes — there  is  a  man !  What  do 
you  say  to  him  ?" 

"  Father,  he  looks  like  a  bull-dog  ;  I  should  always  be  afraid 
that  he  would  bite  me." 

"  It  is  true,  he  does  look  something  like  a  bull-dog,"  re- 
plied Beppo,  sighing.  "  We  will  say  no  more  about  him.  Per- 
haps you  would  prefer  a  graver  and  more  mature  person.  If 
women  knew  how  to  choose,  they  would  never  take  a  husband 


1 6  Fairy  Book. 

less  than  forty  years  old.  Under  that  age,  they  find  nothing 
but  fops  who  suffer  themselves  to  be  adored ;  it  is  not  till  aft- 
er forty  that  a  man  is  really  ripe  to  love  and  obey.  What  do 
you  say  to  that  counselor  of  law,  who  talks  so  well,  and  who 
likes  so  well  to  hear  himself  talk  ?  What  matters  his  gray 
hairs  !  gray  hair  is  wiser  than  black." 

"  Father,  you  are  not  keeping  your  word.  You  see  very 
well  that  with  his  red  eyes,  and  his  white  curls  hanging  over 
his  ears,  he  looks  like  a  poodle." 

It  was  the  same  with  all  the  guests  ;  not  one  escaped  Vio- 
let's tongue.  One,  who  sighed  timidly,  resembled  a  Barbary 
dog ;  another,  with  long  black  hair  and  caressing  eyes,  had 
the  face  of  a  spaniel.  No  one  was  spared.  It  is  said,  indeed, 
that  every  man  looks  like  a  dog  when  you  put  your  hand  un- 
der the  nose,  hiding  the  mouth  and  chin. 

"  Violet  has  too  much  wit,"  thought  Beppo  ;  "  I  shall  never 
do  any  thing  with  her  by  reasoning."  Upon  this,  he  pretend- 
ed to  fall  into  a  rage,  called  her  ungrateful,  hard-hearted,  and 
foolish,  and  ended  by  threatening  to  put  her  into  a  convent 
for  the  rest  of  her  days.  Violet  began  to  cry ;  he  fell  upon 
his  knees,  asked  her  pardon,  and  promised  never  more  to 
speak  to  her  of  any  thing  that  she  did  not  like.  The  next 
morning  he  rose,  after  passing  a  sleepless  night,  kissed  his 
daughter,  thanked  her  for  not  having  swollen  eyes,  and  waited 
for  the  wind  that  turns  the  weathercocks  to  blow  toward  his 
house.  This  time  he  was  not  wrong.  With  women  more 
things  happen  in  an  hour  than  with  men  in  ten  years ;  and 
the  saying,  "  I  will  never  travel  this  road,"  was  not  made*  for 
them. 


Per  lino.  1 7 


II. 

BIRTH   AND    BETROTHAL   OF   PERLINO. 

ONE  day,  when  there  was  a  festival  in  the  suburbs  of  the 
town,  Beppo  asked  his  daughter  what  he  should  bring  her. 

"  Father,"  said  she,  "  if  you  love  me,  buy  me  half  a  ton  of 
white  sugar,  and  the  same  quantity  of  blanched  almonds,  five 
or  six  bottles  of  scented  water,  a  little  musk  and  amber,  forty 
pearls,  two  sapphires,  and  a  handful  of  garnets  and  rubies ; 
bring  me  also  twenty  skeins  of  gold  thread,  ten  yards  of  green 
velvet,  and  a  piece  of  cherry -colored  silk;  and,  above  all 
things,  don't  forget  a  silver  trough  and  trowel." 

The  merchant  was  greatly  astonished  ;  but  he  had  been  too 
good  a  husband  not  to  know  that  with  women  the  shortest 
way  is  not  to  reason,  but  to  obey,  and  he  returned  home  at 
night  with  his  mule  heavily  laden. 

Violet  ordered  all  her  gifts  to  be  carried  to  her  chamber ; 
then  shut  herself  up,  and  set  about  making  a  paste  with  the 
sugar  and  almonds,  which  she  moistened  with  the  rose  and 
jasmine  water.  She  kneaded  the  paste  in  the  trough,  and 
moulded  it  with  her  silver  trowel,  like  a  potter  or  a  sculptor, 
into  the  most  beautiful  young  man  that  ever  was  seen.  She 
made  his  hair  of  the  gold  thread,  his  eyes  of  the  sapphires, 
his  teeth  of  the  pearls,  and  his  tongue  and  lips  of  the  garnets 
and  rubies ;  after  which  she  dressed  him  in  the  silk  and  vel- 
vet, and  christened  him  Perlino,  because  he  was  as  fair  and 
rosy  as  the  mother-of-pearl. 

When  she  had  finished  her  masterpiece,  and  stood  it  on  the 
table,  Violet  clapped  her  hands,  and  began  to  dance  about 
Perlino.  She  sang  him  the  most  tender  airs,  addressed  to 
him  the  sweetest  words,  and  blew  him  kisses  that  would  have 


1 8  Fairy  Book. 

warmed  a  heart  of  stone,  but  all  in  vain — the  doll  did  not  stir. 
Violet  was  beginning  to  cry  for  spite,  when  all  at  once  she 
recollected  that  she  had  a  fairy  for  a  godmother.  What  god- 
mother, above  all  when  she  is  a  fairy,  ever  rejects  the  first 
prayer  of  her  godchild  ?  Violet  prayed  so  long  and  earnestly 
that  her  godmother  heard  her  two  hundred  leagues  off,  and 
took  pity  on  her.  She  blew  with  her  lips — it  is  all  that  fairies 
need  to  do  to  work  a  miracle — when  lo !  Perlino  opened  first 
one  eye  and  then  the  other,  turned  his  head  to  the  right  and 
left,  and  yawned  in  the  most  natural  manner  imaginable  ;  then, 
while  Violet  wept  and  laughed  for  joy,  he  began  to  walk  slow- 
ly, and  with  mincing  steps,  across  the  table. 

More  delighted  than  if  she  had  won  the  kingdom  of  France 
in  a  lottery,  Violet  caught  Perlino  in  her  arms,  kissed  him  on 
both  cheeks,  and  sang, 

"  Perlino,  my  darling,  my  treasure,  my  pride, 
Now  let  us  dance,  and  I'll  be  thy  bride  ; 
Now  let  us  dance,  now  let  us  sing, 
I  will  be  queen,  thou  shalt  be  king. 
Now  we  are  both  in  the  spring-time  of  life, 
Light  of  my  eyes,  I'll  be  thy  wife, 

To  dance  and  to  play 

Through  the  long  day ; 
This  will  be  life,  joyous  and  gay  ; 
And  if  my  wish  thou  dost  ever  obey, 

The  gods  will  not  be 

More  happy  than  we." 

Beppo,  who  was  taking  an  account  of  his  goods  for  the  sec- 
ond time,  dissatisfied  at  having  made  only  a  million  of  dol- 
lars in  a  year,  heard  the  noise  overhead.  "  Upon  my  word," 
he  exclaimed,  "  there  is  something  strange  up  stairs  ;  it  sounds 
as  if  some  one  were  quarreling." 

He  mounted  the  stairs,  and,  pushing  open  the  door,  saw  the 
most  beautiful  sight  in  the  world.  Opposite  his  daughter, 
flushed  with  pleasure,  stood  Cupid  in  person — Cupid,  dressed 


Perlino.  1 9 

in  silk  and  velvet.  With  both  hands  clasped  in  those  of  his 
little  mistress,  Perlino  was  skipping  and  dancing,  as  if  he  were 
never  to  stop. 

As  soon  as  Violet  perceived  her  father,  she  made  a  low 
bow,  and,  presenting  to  him  her  beloved,  said,  "  My  lord  and 


2O  Fairy  Book. 

father,  you  wish  to  see  me  married.    To  obey  and  please  you, 
I  have  chosen  a  husband  according  to  my  own  heart." 

"  You  have  done  well,  my  child,"  replied  Beppo,  who  read 
the  mystery  ;  "  all  women  ought  to  follow  your  example.  I 
know  of  more  than  one  that  would  cut  off  one  of  their  fingers, 
and  not  the  little  one  either,  to  manufacture  a  husband  accord- 
ing to  their  heart,  all  made  of  sugar  and  orange-flower  water. 
Give  them  your  secret,  and  you  will  dry  up  many  tears.  For 
two  thousand  years  they  have  been  complaining,  and  for  two 
thousand  years  longer  they  will  complain  of  being  misunder- 
stood and  sacrificed."  Saying  this,  he  embraced  his  daugh- 
ter, and  asked  for  two  days  to  make  ready  for  the  wedding. 
No  less  time  was  needed  to  invite  all  their  friends  round 
about,  and  to  prepare  a  dinner  which  would  not  be  unworthy 
of  the  richest  merchant  of  Paestum. 

III. 

THE   ABDUCTION   OF   PERLINO. 

To  see  so  novel  a  marriage,  every  one  came  from  the  whole 
country  round ;  rich  and  poor,  young  and  old,  friends  and 
foes,  all  wished  to  know  Perlino.  Unhappily,  there  never  is  a 
wedding  without  the  devil  meddles  with  it,  and  Violet's  god- 
mother had  not  foreseen  what  would  happen. 

Among  the  invited  guests  there  was  a  personage  of  con- 
siderable importance — a  countess  of  the  neighborhood,  by  the 
name  of  the  Lady  of  the  Chinking  Guineas.  She  was  as  wick- 
ed and  as  old  as  Satan ;  her  skin  was  yellow  and  wrinkled, 
her  eyes  haggard,  her  cheeks  hollow,  her  nose  hooked,  and 
her  chin  pointed ;  but  she  was  rich,  so  rich  that  every  one 
bowed  down  to  her  as  she  passed,  and  disputed  the  honor  of 
kissing  her  hand.  Beppo  bent  to  the  ground,  and  seated  her 
at  his  right  hand,  happy  and  proud  to  present  his  daughter 


Per  lino.  2 1 

and  son-in-law  to  a  lady  who,  having  more  than  a  hundred 
millions,  did  him  the  favor  to  eat  his  dinner. 

During  the  whole  meal  the  Lady  of  the  Chinking  Guineas 
did  nothing  but  gaze  at  Perlino.  Her  heart  was  burning 
with  envy.  The  countess  lived  in  a  castle  worthy  of  the 
fairies,  with  walls  of  gold  and  pavements  of  silver.  In  this 
castle  there  was  a  gallery  in  which  all  the  curiosities  of  the 
world  were  assembled — a  clock  that  always  struck  the  hour 
desired ;  an  elixir  that  cured  gout  and  headache ;  a  philter 
that  changed  sorrow  to  joy ;  an  arrow  of  love ;  the  shade  of 
Scipio ;  the  heart  of  a  coquette ;  the  religion  of  a  doctor ;  a 
stuffed  siren ;  three  horns  of  a  unicorn ;  the  conscience  of  a 
courtier ;  the  politeness  of  a  man  newly  enriched ;  and  the 
hippogriff  of  Orlando — all  things  that  never  had  been  and 
never  would  be  seen  any  where  else.  But  this  treasure  lacked 
one  gem — this  cherub  of  a  Perlino. 

Before  dessert  arrived  the  lady  had  resolved  to  gain  pos- 
session of  him.  She  was  very  avaricious  j  but  what  she  de- 
sired she  must  have  at  once,  no  matter  at  what  price.  She 
bought  all  that  was  to  be  sold,  and  even  that  which  was  not 
for  sale ;  all  the  rest  she  stole,  quite  certain  that  the  laws  were 
only  made  for  the  poor.  "  From  an  ignorant  doctor,  a  stub- 
born mule,  and  a  wicked  woman,  good  Lord,  deliver  us  !"  says 
the  proverb.  No  sooner  had  they  risen  from  the  table  than 
she  drew  near  Perlino,  who,  born  only  three  days  before,  had 
not  yet  opened  his  eyes  to  the  wickedness  of  the  world,  and 
told  him  of  all  the  beauty  and  riches  in  the  Palace  of  the 
Chinking  Guineas.  "  Come  with  me,  my  dear  little  friend," 
said  she,  "  and  I  will  give  you  whatever  place  you  like  in  my 
palace.  Choose  ;  would  you  rather  be  a  page  dressed  in  gold, 
a  chamberlain  with  a  diamond  key  suspended  about  your 
neck,  or  a  door-keeper  with  a  silver  halberd  and  a  great  gold 
breast-plate  that  will  make  you  more  brilliant  than  the  sun  ? 
Speak  but  a  word,  and  all  is  yours." 


22  Fairy  Book. 

The  poor  innocent  was  dazzled  ;  but,  however  short  a  time 
he  had  breathed  his  native  air,  he  was  already  a  Neapolitan, 
that  is,  the  reverse  of  stupid. 

"  Madam,"  answered  he,  ingenuously,  "  to  work  is  the  trade 
of  oxen ;  there  is  nothing  so  healthful  as  repose.  I  should 
like  a  profession  in  which  there  was  nothing  to  do  and  a  great 
deal  to  gain,  like  the  canons  of  St.  Januarius." 

"What !"  said  the  Lady  of  the  Chinking  Guineas,  "  at  your 
age,  would  you  already  be  an  idler  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  twice  over,"  interrupted  Perlino, "  so  as  to  earn 
double  wages." 

"  That  makes  no  difference,"  returned  the  countess ;  "  in 
the  mean  time,  come,  and  I  will  show  you  my  carriage,  my 
English  coachman,  and  my  six  gray  horses."  She  drew  him 
toward  the  door.  "  And  Violet  ?"  said  Perlino,  faintly.  "Vio- 
let is  following  us,"  replied  the  lady,  dragging  on  the  impru- 
dent boy,  who  suffered  her  to  lead  him.  Once  in  the  yard, 
she  showed  him  her  beautiful  horses,  which  were  pawing  the 
ground  and  shaking  their  nets  of  red  silk  hung  with  golden 
bells ;  then  persuaded  him  to  enter  the  carriage  to  try  the 
cushions,  and  look  at  himself  ir^lhe  mirrors.  Suddenly  she 
shut  the  door,  the  coachman  cracked  his  whip,  and  off  they 
went  at  full  gallop  toward  the  Castle  of  the  Chinking  Guineas. 

Violet  meanwhile  was  gracefully  receiving  the  congratu- 
lations of  the  assembly.  Astonished  at  not  seeing  her  be- 
trothed, who  had  clung  to  her  like  her  shadow,  she  ran  through 
all  the  rooms  without  finding  him  ;  then  climbed  to  the  top 
of  the  house  to  see  if  he  had  not  gone  there  to  breathe  the 
fresh  air,  but  all  in  vain.  In  the  distance  she  perceived  a 
cloud  of  dust,  and  a  coach  with  six  horses  going  at  full  gallop 
toward  the  mountain.  There  was  no  more  doubt ;  it  was  car- 
rying off  Perlino.  At  the  sight  Violet  felt  her  heart  sink 
within  her.  Without  thinking  that  she  was  bareheaded  and 


Per  lino.  23 

in  bridal  attire,  with  lace  dress  and  satin  shoes,  she  rushed 
from  her  father's  house  and  ran  after  the  carriage,  shouting 
Perlino's  name,  and  stretching  out  her  arms.  She  might  as 
well  have  cried  to  the  winds.  The  ungrateful  boy  was  wholly 
absorbed  in  the  honeyed  words  of  his  new  mistress.  He  was 
playing  with  the  rings  on  her  fingers,  and  dreaming  already 
that  the  next  morning  he  should  awaken  a  prince.  Alas! 
there  are  older  ones  than  he  that  are  no  wiser.  When  do 
men  learn  that  at  home  goodness  and  beauty  are  worth  more 
than  riches  ?  When  it  is  too  late,  and  they  no  longer  have 
strength  to  break  the  chains  that  they  have  put  on  their  own 
hands. 


IV. 

NIGHT    AND    DAY. 

POOR  Violet  ran  all  day  long  after  Perlino  ;  ditches,  brooks, 
thickets,  briers,  thorns,  nothing  stopped  her.  He  who  suffers 
for  love  feels  no  pain.  When  evening  came  she  found  her- 
self in  a  dark  forest,  overpowered  with  fatigue  and  half  dead 
with  hunger,  her  hands  and  fff  covered  with  blood.  Seized 
with  terror,  she  looked  round  her ;  a  thousand  faces  seemed 
to  glare  threateningly  from  the  darkness.  She  threw  herself 
trembling  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  calling  on  Perlino,  in  a  low 
voice,  to  bid  him  a  last  farewell. 

As  she  held  her  breath,  so  frightened  that  she  dared  not 
move,  she  heard  the  trees  about  her  talking  together.  It  is 
the  privilege  of  innocence  to  understand  all  the  creatures  of 
God.  "  Neighbor,"  said  a  carob-tree  to  a  hollow  olive-tree, 
"  that  young  girl  is  very  imprudent  to  lie  on  the  ground.  In 
an  hour  the  wolves  will  quit  their  den,  and  if  they  spare  her, 
the  morning  dew  and  cold  will  give  her  a  fever  from  which 
she  will  never  recover.  Why  doesn't  she  climb  among  my 


24  Fairy  Book. 

branches  ?  She  could  sleep  there  in  peace,  and  I  would  will- 
ingly give  her  some  of  my  pods  to  recruit  her  exhausted 
strength." 

"  You  are  right,  neighbor,"  answered  the  olive-tree.  "  The 
child  would  do  still  better  if,  before  going  to  sleep,  she  should 
put  her  hand  into  my  trunk,  where  the  bagpipe  and  clothes 
of  a  piper  are  hidden.  A  goat-skin  is  not  to  be  despised  as  a 
protection  from  the  cold  night  air ;  and  a  lace  dress  and  satin 
shoes  are  a  light  costume  for  a  girl  to  roam  the  world  in." 

Violet  was  reassured  when  she  had  found  the  coarse  jacket, 
goat-skin  cloak,  pointed  hat,  and  bagpipe  of  the  piper.  She 
bravely  climbed  the  carob-tree,  ate  its  sugared  fruit,  drank 
the  evening  dew,  and,  wrapping  herself  up  warmly,  lay  down 
among  the  branches  as  well  as  she  could.  The  tree  clasped 
its  paternal  arms  about  her,  the  wood-pigeons  left  their  nests 
to  cover  her  with  leaves,  the  wind  rocked  her  like  an  infant, 
and  she  fell  asleep  thinking  of  her  beloved. 

On  waking  the  next  morning  she  was  rilled  with  terror. 
The  weather  was  calm  and  beautiful,  but  in  the  silence  of  the 
woods  the  poor  child  felt  her  solitude  more  deeply  than  ever. 
Every  thing  was  living  and  loving  around  her;  and  who 
thought  of  the  poor  forsaken  one  ?  She  began  to  sing  in  or- 
der to  call  to  her  aid  all  that  passed  by  without  looking  at 
her ;  but  the  wind  swept  on  murmuring,  the  bee  set  out  in 
search  of  his  booty,  the  swallows  chased  the  flies  high  in  the 
air,  the  birds  chirped  and  sang  to  each  other  in  the  foliage, 
and  no  one  troubled  himself  about  Violet.  She  descended 
from  the  tree  with  a  sigh,  and  marched  straight  forward,  trust- 
ing to  her  heart  to  find  Perlino. 


Per  lino.  25 


V. 

THE    THREE    FRIENDS. 

A  TORRENT  fell  from  the  mountain,  the  bed  of  which  was 
partly  dried  up.  Violet  followed  this  road.  The  red  laurels 
were  already  springing  from  the  water,  their  branches  covered 
with  flowers.  Violet  plunged  among  the  verdure,  followed  by 
the  butterflies,  fluttering  around  her  as  around  a  lily  shaken 
by  the  wind.  She  walked  faster  than  an  exile  returning  home  ; 
but  the  heat  was  intense,  and  before  noon  she  was  forced  to 
stop. 

On  approaching  a  pool  of  water  to  cool  her  burning  feet, 
she  saw  a  drowning  bee.  She  extended  her  tiny  foot,  and  the 
insect  climbed  on  it.  Once  dry,  the  bee  remained  for  some 
time  motionless  as  if  to  regain  breath  ;  then  it  shook  its  damp 
wings,  and,  passing  over  its  whole  body  its  foot  softer  than 
silk,  it  dried  and  polished  itself,  and,  taking  flight,  buzzed 
around  her  who  had  saved  its  life. 

"  Violet,"  it  said,  "  you  have  not  obliged  an  ingrate.  I 
know  where  you  are  going ;  let  me  go  with  you.  When  I  am 
tired,  I  will  rest  on  your  head.  If  ever  you  are  in  need  of  me, 
only  say 

"  '  Nebuchadnezzar,  hark  and  behold, 

The  peace  of  the  heart  is  better  than  gold,' 

and  perhaps  I  can  serve  you." 

"  Ah !"  said  Violet,  "  I  never  can  say  '"Nebuchadnezzar.1 " 

"  What  do  you  want  ?"  asked  the  bee. 

"  Nothing,  nothing,"  replied  Violet ;  "  I  shall  not  need  you 
till  I  reach  Perlino." 

She  set  out  again  on  the  way  with  a  lighter  heart.  In  a 
few  minutes  she  heard  a  faint  cry ;  it  was  a  white  mouse  that 

B 


26  Fairy  Book. 

had  been  wounded  by  a  hedgehog,  and  had  escaped  its  en- 
emy, covered  with  blood,  and  half  dead.  Violet  took  pity  on 
the  poor  animal.  Notwithstanding  her  haste,  she  stopped  to 
wash  its  wounds,  and  to  give  it  one  of  the  carob-pods  which 
she  had  kept  for  her  breakfast 

"  Violet,"  said  the  mouse,  "  you  have  not  obliged  an  ingrate. 
I  know  where  you  are  going.  Put  me  into  your  pocket  with 
the  rest  of  your  carob-pods.  If  ever  you  are  in  need  of  me, 
only  say 

" '  Tricche  verlacche, 

Coat  of  gold  and  heart  of  a  lackey,' 

and  perhaps  I  can  serve  you." 

Violet  slipped  the  mouse  into  her  pocket,  that  it  might  nib- 
ble there  at  its  ease,  and  continued  to  ascend  the  torrent. 
Toward  dusk  she  approached  the  mountain,  when  suddenly 
a  squirrel  fell  at  her  feet,  pursued  by  a  frightful  screech-owl. 
Violet  was  not  timid.  She  struck  the  owl  with  her  bagpipe, 
and  put  it  to  flight,  then  picked  up  the  squirrel,  which  was 
more  stunned  than  hurt  by  its  fall,  and  brought  it  to  life  by 
dint  of  care. 

"  Violet,"  said  the  squirrel,  "  you  have  not  obliged  an  in- 
grate. I  know  where  you  are  going.  Put  me  on  your  shoul- 
der, and  piek  some  nuts  for  me,  that  I  may  not  let  my  teeth 
grow  long  for  want  of  something  to  do.  If  ever  you  are  in 
need  of  me,  only  say 

" '  Patita,  Patite, 

Look  well  and  you'll  see,' 

and  perhaps  I  can  serve  you." 

Violet  was  somewhat  astonished  at  these  three  encounters. 
She  relied  little  on  this  gratitude  in  words ;  what  could  such 
weak  friends  do  for  her  ?  "  No  matter,"  thought  she,  "  it  is 
always  right  to  do  good ;  let  what  will  happen,  I  have  had 
pity  on  the  unfortunate."  At  this  moment  the  moon  came 


Per  lino.  2  7 

out  from  a  cloud,  and  its  pale  light  fell  on  the  old  Castle  of 
the  Chinking  Guineas. 


VI. 

THE    CASTLE    OF    THE    CHINKING    GUINEAS. 

THE  sight  of  the  castle  was  not  calculated  to  reassure  hei. 
On  the  top  of  a  mountain,  which  was  nothing  but  a  mass  of 
crumbling  rocks,  she  saw  battlements  of  gold,  turrets  of  silver, 
and  roofs  of  sapphire  and  ruby,  surrounded  with  great  ditches 
full  of  greenish  water,  and  defended  by  draw-bridges,  portcul- 
lises, parapets,  enormous  bars,  and  loopholes  from  which  pro- 
truded the  throats  of  cannon,  and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  war 
and  murder.  The  beautiful  palace  was  nothing  but  a  prison. 
Violet  painfully  climbed  a  winding  path,  and  finally  reached 
a  narrow  passage,  which  led  to  an  iron  door  furnished  with  a 
huge  lock.  She  called  without  receiving  an  answer;  then 
pulled  a  bell,  upon  which  a  jailer  appeared,  blacker  and  ug- 
lier than  Cerberus. 

"  Begone,  beggar !"  he  cried,  "  or  I  will  knock  you  down. 
There  is  no  lodging  for  the  poor  here.  In  the  Castle  of  the 
Chinking  Guineas  we  give  alms  only  to  those  that  do  not  need 
them." 

Poor  Violet  turned  away  weeping.  "  Courage  !"  said  the 
squirrel,  cracking  a  nut ;  "play  your  bagpipe." 

"  I  never  played  in  my  life,"  answered  Violet. 

"  The  more  reason  for  doing  so,"  replied  the  squirrel.  "  So 
long  as  you  have  not  tried  to  do  a  thing,  you  don't  know 
whether  you  can  do  it  or  not.  Blow !" 

Violet  began  to  blow  with  all  her  might,  moving  her  fingers 
and  singing  in  the  instrument,  when  behold !  the  pipes  filled, 
and  played  a  tarantella  that  would  have  caused  the  dead  to 
dance.  At  the  sound  the  squirrel  leaped  to  the  ground,  and 


28 


Fairy  Book. 


the  mouse  did  not  stay  behind.  They  skipped  and  danced 
like  true  Neapolitans,  while  the  bee  buzzed  and  whirled  around 
them.  It  was  a  sight  well  worth  paying  for. 

At  the  sound  of  this  sweet  music  the  black  shutters  of  the 
castle  were  quickly  seen  to  open.  The  Lady  of  the  Chinking 
Guineas  had  her  maids  of  honor,  who  were  not  sorry  to  look 
out  from  time  to  time  to  see  whether  the  flies  always  buzzed 


Per  lino.  29 

the  same  way.  It  was  in  vain  not  to  be  curious ;  it  was  not 
every  day  that  they  heard  a  tarantella  played  by  such  a  hand- 
some shepherd  as  Violet. 

"  Boy,"  cried  one,  "  come  this  way !" 

"  No,"  called  another,  "  come  on  my  side."  And  they  all 
smiled  on  him,  but  the  door  remained  shut. 

"  Ladies,"  said  Violet,  taking  off  her  hat, "  be  as  good  as 
you  are  beautiful.  I  have  been  overtaken  by  night  in  the 
mountain,  and  have  neither  lodging  nor  supper.  Give  me  a 
corner  in  the  stable  and  a  crust  of  bread,  and  I  and  my  little 
dancers  will  amuse  you  all  the  evening." 

The  regulations  were  strict  in  the  Castle  of  the  Chinking 
Guineas.  There  was  such  fear  of  robbers  that  no  one  was 
admitted  after  dusk.  The  ladies  knew  this  well ;  but  in  an 
honest  household  there  is  always  a  hangman's  rope  to  be 
found.  One  end  was  thrown  out  of  the  window ;  in  an  instant 
Violet  was  hoisted  into  a  large  chamber,  with  all  her  menag- 
erie, and  there  she  was  forced  to  blow,  and  sing,  and  dance 
for  long  hours  without  being  permitted  to  open  her  mouth 
to  ask  after  Perlino.  No  matter,  she  was  happy  in  feeling 
herself  under  the  same  roof  with  him,  and  it  seemed  to  her 
that  at  this  moment  the  heart  of  her  beloved  must  be  beating 
like  her  own.  The  innocent  child  believed  that  it  was  only 
necessary  to  love  in  order  to  be  loved.  Her  dreams  that 
night  were  sweet  ones. 

VII. 

NEBUCHADNEZZAR. 

EARLY  the  next  morning,  Violet,  who  had  slept  in  the  barn, 
clambered  on  the  roof  and  looked  about  her ;  but  her  eyes 
wandered  in  vain  in  all  directions ;  she  saw  nothing  but 
grated  towers  and  solitary  gardens.  She  burst  into  tears,  in 


30  Fairy  Book. 

spite  of  all  the  efforts  of  her  three  little  friends  to  comfort 
her. 

In  the  court-yard,  all  paved  with  silver,  she  found  the  maids 
of  honor  seated  in  a  circle,  spinning  gold  and  silver  flax  on 
their  distaffs.  "  Begone !"  they  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  they 
saw  her ;  "  if  the  countess  should  see  your  rags,  she  would 
turn  us  all  out  of  doors.  Begone !  vile  piper,  and  never  re- 
turn ;  unless,  indeed,  you  should  become  a  prince  or  a  banker." 

"  Oh,  do  not  send  me  away  so  soon,  fair  ladies,"  replied 
Violet ;  "  let  me  wait  on  you ;  I  will  be  so  good  and  so  obe- 
dient that  you  will  never  regret  having  let  me  stay." 

The  first  maid  of  honor,  a  tall,  thin,  wrinkled,  yellow,  and 
sharp-featured  woman,  rose,  and,  for  her  sole  answer,  motioned 
the  little  shepherd  to  the  door,  and  called  the  jailer,  who  ad- 
vanced, frowning  and  brandishing  his  pike. 

"  I  am  lost !"  exclaimed  the  poor  girl ;  "  I  shall  never  more 
see  my  Perlino !" 

"  Violet !"  said  the  squirrel,  gravely,  "  gold  is  tried  in  the 
furnace,  and  friends  in  misfortune." 

"  You  are  right,"  exclaimed  Violet. 

"  '  Nebuchadnezzar,  hark  and  behold, 

The  peace  of  the  heart  is  better  than  gold  !' " 

The  bee  instantly  flew  in  the  air,  and  behold !  a  beautiful 
crystal  coach,  with  ruby  shafts  and  emerald  wheels,  suddenly 
appeared  in  the  court-yard.  The  equipage  was  drawn  by  four 
black  dogs  the  size  of  rats.  Four  large  beetles,  dressed  as 
jockeys,  guided  the  tiny  steeds  with  a  light  hand.  At  the 
back  of  the  carriage,  luxuriously  reclining  on  cushions  of  blue 
satin,  was  stretched  a  young  woodpecker,  dressed  in  a  little 
rose-colored  bonnet,  and  a  heavy  brocade  robe,  so  full  that  it 
fell  over  the  wheels.  The  lady  held  a  fan  in  one  hand,  and 
a  smelling-bottle,  and  a  handkerchief  embroidered  with  her 
arms  and  trimmed  with  broad  lace,  in  the  other.  By  her  side, 


Per  lino.  3 1 

half  buried  under  the  silken  folds,  was  an  owl,  with  languid 
air,  listless  eye,  and  bald  head,  and  so  old  that  his  beak  lap- 
ped like  a  pair  of  dislocated  scissors.  They  were  a  new-mar- 
ried couple  who  were  making  their  wedding-calls — a  fashion- 
able establishment,  such  as  the  Lady  of  the  Chinking  Guineas 
adored. 

At  the  sight  of  this  masterpiece,  a  cry  of  admiration  and 
joy  awakened  all  the  echoes  of  the  palace.  The  jailer  let  fall 
his  pike  with  astonishment,  while  the  ladies  ran  after  the  car- 
riage and  four  spaniels,  which  set  off  at  full  gallop  as  if  they 
were  carrying  the  king  in  person.  The  strange  noise  dis- 
turbed the  Lady  of  the  Chinking  Guineas,  who  was  in  con- 
stant fear  of  being  robbed.  She  ran  thither  furious,  resolved 
to  turn  all  her  maids  of  honor  out  of  doors.  She  paid  to  be 
respected,  and  was  determined  to  have  the  worth  of  her  money. 
But  when  she  perceived  the  equipage — when  the  owl  saluted 
her  with  a  sign  of  his  beak,  and  the  woodpecker  waved  her 
handkerchief  three  times  with  charming  nonchalance,  the  la- 
dy's anger  vanished  in  smoke. 

"  I  must  have  this !"  cried  she.    "  AVhat  is  the  price  of  it  ?" 

The  countess's  voice  frightened  Violet,  but  the  love  of  Per- 
lino  gave  her  courage.  She  replied  that,  poor  as  she  was,  she 
loved  her  fancy  better  than  all  the  gold  in  the  world,  and  that 
she  prized  her  carriage,  and  would  not  sell  it  for  the  Castle 
of  the  Chinking  Guineas. 

"  Oh,  the  foolish  vanity  of  beggars !"  muttered  the  lady. 
"  Truly,  none  but  the  rich  have  a  holy  respect  for  gold,  and 
are  ready  to  do  any  thing  for  a  dollar.  I  must  have  this  car- 
riage," added  she,  in  a  threatening  tone ;  "  cost  what  it  may, 
I  will  have  it." 

"  Madam,"  said  Violet,  greatly  excited,  "  it  is  true  that  I 
will  not  sell  it,  but  I  shall  be  happy  to  offer  it  to  your  ladyship 
as  a  gift  if  you  will  grant  me  one  favor." 


32  Fairy  Book. 

"  It  will  be  dear,"  thought  the  countess.  "  Speak !"  said 
she  to  Violet  j  "  what  do  you  want  ?" 

"  Madam,"  replied  Violet,  trembling,  "  it  is  said  that  you 
have  a  museum  in  which  all  the  curiosities  of  the  world  are 
collected.  Show  them  to  me  ;  if  there  is  any  thing  there  more 
wonderful  than  this  carriage,  my  treasure  is  yours." 

For  her  sole  answer,  the  Lady  of  the  Chinking  Guineas 
shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  led  Violet  to  a  great  gallery,  the 
like  of  which  had  never  been  seen.  She  showed  her  all  her 
riches — a  star  fallen  from  heaven;  a  necklace  made  of  a 
moonbeam,  plaited  in  three  strands ;  black  lilies ;  green  roses ; 
an  eternal  love ;  fire  that  did  not  burn,  and  many  other  curi- 
osities ;  but  she  did  not  show  the  only  thing  that  would  have 
moved  Violet — Perlino  was  not  there. 

The  countess  vainly  sought  admiration  and  astonishment 
in  the  eyes  of  the  little  shepherd ;  she  read  nothing  there  but 
indifference.  "Well,"  said  she,  "all  these  marvels  are  far 
more  wonderful  than  your  four  puppies ;  the  carriage  is  mine." 
-  "  No,  madam,"  said  Violet ;  "  all  these  things  are  dead,  and 
my  curiosities  are  living.  You  can  not  compare  sticks  and 
stones  to  my  owl  and  woodpecker — personages  so  real  and 
natural  that  it  seems  as  if  you  had  just  met  them  in  the  street. 
Art  is  nothing  compared  with  life." 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  said  the  countess.  "  I  will  show  you  a  little 
man  made  of  sugar  and  almond  paste,  who  sings  like  a  night- 
ingale, and  reasons  like  a  professor." 

"  Perlino  !"  cried  Violet. 

"  Ah !"  said  the  Lady  of  the  Chinking  Guineas,  "  my  maids 
of  honor  have  been  chattering."  She  looked  at  the  piper 
with  the  instinct  of  fear.  "  On  reflection,"  she  added, "  I  do 
not  want  your  child's  toys — begone  !" 

"Madam,"  said  Violet,  trembling,  "let  me  speak  to  this 
miracle  of  a  Perlino,  and  take  the  carriage." 


Per  lino.  33 

"  No,"  said  the  countess,  "  begone  !  and  take  your  animals 
with  you." 

"  Only  let  me  see  Perlino." 

"  No,  no  !"  replied  the  lady. 

"  Only  let  me  sleep  a  night  at  his  door,"  resumed  Violet,  in 
tears.  "  See  what  a  jewel  you  are  refusing  !"  she  added,  bend- 
ing on  one  knee,  and  offering  the  carriage  to  the  Lady  of  the 
Chinking  Guineas. 

At  the  sight  the  countess  hesitated,  then  smiled ;  in  an  in- 
stant she  had  found  the  means  of  deceiving  Violet  and  obtain- 
ing what  she  coveted  for  nothing.  "  It  is  a  bargain,"  said  she, 
seizing  the  carriage ;  u  you  shall  sleep  to-night  at  Perlino 's 
door,  and  shall  even  see  him  j  but  I  forbid  you  to  speak  to 
him." 

The  evening  come,  the  Lady  of  the  Chinking  Guineas  sent 
for  Perlino  to  sup  with  her.  When  she  had  made  him  eat 
and  drink  heartily,  which  was  an  easy  thing  with  a  youth  of  a 
yielding  disposition,  she  poured  out  some  excellent  wine  into 
a  gilt  cup,  and,  taking  a  crystal  box  from  her  pocket,  took 
from  it  a  reddish  powder,  which  she  threw  into  the  wine. 
"  Drink  this,  my  child,"  said  she  to  Perlino,  "  and  tell  me  how 
you  like  it." 

Perlino,  who  did  whatever  he  was  bid,  swallowed  the  liquor 
at  a  single  draught. 

"  Pah !"  cried  he,  "  this  drink  is  detestable ;  it  smells  of 
blood  and  wine ;  it  is  poison  !" 

"Foolish  fellow !"  replied  the  countess,  "  it  is  potable  gold ; 
whoever  has  drunk  it  once  will  drink  it  always.  Take  an- 
other glass,"  she  added;  "you  will  find  it  better  than  the 
first." 

The  lady  was  right.  Scarcely  had  the  child  emptied  the 
cup,  when  he  was  seized  with  a  raging  thirst.  "  More  !  more !" 
he  cried.  He  would  not  quit  the  table  ;  and,  to  persuade  him 

B2 


34  Fairy  Book. 

to  go  to  bed,  the  countess  was  obliged  to  make  him  a  great 
paper  cornet  of  this  marvelous  powder,  which  he  put  carefully 
into  his  pocket  as  a  remedy  for  all  evils. 

Poor  Perlino  !  it  was  indeed  a  poison,  and  the  most  terrible 
of  poisons,  that  he  had  taken.  Whoever  drinks  potable  gold 
feels  his  heart  frozen  the  instant  the  liquid  enters  his  stom- 
ach. He  neither  knows  nor  loves  any  thing  thenceforth,  nei- 
ther father,  nor  mother,  nor  wife,  nor  children,  nor  friends,  nor 
country ;  he  thinks  only  of  himself,  and  wishes  to  drink,  and 
would  drink  all  the  gold  and  blood  of  the  world  without 
quenching  a  thirst  that  nothing  could  satisfy. 

Meanwhile,  what  was  Violet  doing  ?  The  time  seemed  as 
long  to  her  as  a  day  without  bread  to  the  poor.  As  soon  as 
night  put  on  her  black  mask  to  open  the  starry  ball,  Violet 
ran  to  Perlino's  door,  quite  sure  that  on  seeing  her  he  would 
throw  himself  into  her  arms.  How  her  heart  beat  when  she 
heard  him  coming  up  the  stairs  !  and  what  was  her  sorrow 
when  the  ingrate  passed  by  without  even  looking  at  her ! 

The  door  closed  and  double  locked,  and  the  key  taken  out, 
Violet  threw  herself  on  a  mat  that  had  been  given  her  through 
pity,  and,  bursting  into  tears,  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
to  stifle  her  sobs.  She  did  not  dare  to  complain  for  fear  of 
being  driven  away;  but  when  the  hour  came  in  which  the 
stars  alone  had  their  eyes  open,  she  scratched  gently  on  the 
door,  and  sang  to  Perlino  in  a  low  voice, 

"  Dost  thou  hear  me,  Perlino? 

'Tis  I  who  would  free  thee ; 
Open  quickly  to  me, 

Lest  I  die  ere  I  see  thee. 
I  tremble,  I  shiver,  I  sigh, 
Since  thou,  love,  no  longer  art  nigh. 

Night  or  day, 

Since  thou  art  away, 
I  no  more  am  glad  or  gay." 

Alas !  it  was  in  vain.     Nothing  stirred  in  the  room.     Per- 


Per  lino.  35 

lino  was  snoring,  and  dreaming  only  of  his  gold  dust.  The 
hours  dragged  slowly  along,  bringing  no  hope.  But,  however 
long  and  painful  the  night,  the  morning  was  still  sadder.  The 
Lady  of  the  Chinking  Guineas  appeared  at  daybreak.  "  Are 
you  satisfied,  handsome  piper?"  said  she,  with  a  malicious 
smile.  "The  carriage  is  paid  for  at  your  own  price." 

"  May  you  have  such  contentment  all  the  days  of  your 
life !"  murmured  poor  Violet.  "  I  have  passed  such  a  wretch- 
ed night  that  I  shall  not  soon  forget  it." 


VIII. 

TRICCHE  VERLACCHE. 

VIOLET  retired  sadly.  Her  hopes  were  vanished,  and  noth- 
ing was  left  for  her  but  to  return  to  her  father's  house,  and 
forget  him  who  no  longer  loved  her.  She  crossed  the  court- 
yard, followed  by  the  maids  of  honor  jeering  at  her  simplicity. 
On  reaching  the  gate,  she  turned  to  take  a  last  look.  Seeing 
herself  alone,  she  burst  into  tears,  and  hid  her  face  in  her 
hands. 

"  Begone,  beggar !"  cried  the  jailer,  seizing  her  by  the  col- 
lar, and  shaking  her  with  an  air  of  importance. 

"  Begone  !"  said  Violet ;  "  never ! 

" '  Tricche  Verlacche, 

Coat  of  gold  and  heart  of  a  lackey,'  " 

cried  she. 

And  behold !  the  mouse  sprang  at  the  jailer's  face,  and  bit 
it  till  it  bled ;  then  an  immense  bird-cage,  as  large  as  a  Chi- 
nese pavilion,  rose  up  before  the  gate.  The  bars  were  of  sil- 
ver, and  the  seed-cups  of  diamonds,  with  pearls  for  hemp- 
seed,  and  guineas,  strung  on  ribbons  of  all  colors,  for  cuttle- 
fish. In  this  magnificent  cage,  on  a  swinging  ladder  that 
turned  with  the  wind,  hopped  and  twittered  thousands  of  birds 


36  Fairy  Book. 

of  all  sizes  and  countries — humming-birds,  parrots,  cardinal- 
birds,  linnets,  canaries,  and  every  other  species.  All  this 
feathered  world  was  warbling  the  same  song,  each  in  his  jar- 
gon. Violet,  who  understood  the  language  of  birds  as  well 
as  that  of  plants,  translated  it  for  the  benefit  of  the  maids  of 
honor,  who  were  greatly  astonished  to  find  such  rare  prudence 
among  canaries.  The  chorus  ran  as  follows  : 

"  Freedom  is  folly, 

Hurrah  for  the  cage ! 

Whoever  is  sage 
Will  come  hither  to  stay, 
To  eat,  and  to  drink,  and  be  jolly, 
Where,  for  all  these  delights, 

He  has  only  to  pay 

By  warbling  a  lay. 
Freedom  is  folly, 

Hurrah  for  the  cage  !" 

A  deep  silence  followed  these  joyful  cries.  Then  an  old 
red  and  green  parrot,  with  a  grave  and  serious  air,  raised  one 
claw,  and,  swinging  on  his  perch,  sang  in  a  nasal  tone,  or 
rather  croaked,  this  solo  : 

"  The  nightingale  in  his  black  vest, 
Who  never  comes  out  of  his  nest 
Till  the  sun  has  gone  down  in  the  west, 
To  sing  to  his  mistress  the  moon, 
Is  a  fellow  unpleasant  to  see. 
He  is  proud  as  a  king,  though  he  lives 
Like  a  beggar,  yet  still  he  believes 
No  bird  is  so  happy  as  he. 
Then  his  voice — what  a  bore  ! 

We  should,  entre  nous, 

Without  more  ado, 

Hang  all  such  fools  who 
Good  fortune  refuse  to  adore." 

And  all  the  birds,  ravished  with  his  eloquence,  began  to  whis- 
tle in  shrill  tones, 

"  Freedom  is  folly, 

Hurrah  for  the  cage  !" 


Perlino. 


37 


As  the  maids  of  honor  were  crowding  round  the  magic 
bird-cage,  the  Lady  of  the  Chinking  Guineas  appeared,  and  it 
may  be  believed  that  she  was  not  the  last  to  covet  this  mar- 
vel. "  Child,"  said  she  to  the  piper, "  will  you  sell  me  this 
cage  at  the  same  price  as  the  carriage  ?" 

"Willingly,  madam,"  answered  Violet,  who  had  no  other 
desire. 

"  It  is  a  bargain,"  said  the  lady.  "  None  but  beggars  would 
be  guilty  of  such  follies." 

The  night  did  not  differ  from  the  preceding  one.  Perlino, 
drunk  with  the  potable  gold,  entered  his  chamber  without 
even  raising  his  eyes ;  and  Violet  threw  herself  on  her  mat, 
more  wretched  than  ever.  She  sang  as  on  the  first  night,  and 
shed  tears  that  would  have  melted  a  heart  of  stone,  but  all  in 
vain.  Perlino  slept  like  a  dethroned  king,  and  the  sobs  of 
his  mistress  lulled  him  like  the  murmurs  of  the  winds  and 
waves.  Toward  midnight,  Violet's  three  friends,  grieved  at 
her  sorrow,  held  council.  "  It  is  not  natural  that  he  should 
sleep  in  this  way,"  said  the  squirrel.  "We  must  go  in  and 
wake  him,"  said  the  mouse.  "  But  how  shall  we  get  in  ?"  said 
the  bee,  who  had  been  vainly  seeking  a  crack  in  the  wall. 
"That  is  my  business,"  said  the  mouse.  And  he  quickly 
gnawed  a  little  hole  in  the  door  large  enough  for  the  bee  to 
glide  into  the  room  where  Perlino  lay  asleep  on  his  back, 
snoring.  Angry  at  this  calmness,  the  bee  stung  him  on  the 
lip  j  he  sighed,  and  struck  his  cheek  a  blow,  but  did  not  wake. 

"  He  has  been  put  to  sleep,"  said  the  bee,  returning. 
"  There  is  magic  in  it.  What  shall  we  do  ?" 

"  Wait !"  said  the  mouse,  who  had  not  let  his  teeth  rust. 
"It  is  my  turn  to  go  into  the  room.  I  will  awaken  him, 
should  I  eat  his  heart  out." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Violet,  "  I  will  not  have  my  Perlino  hurt." 

The  mouse  was  already  in  the  room.     To  jump  on  the  bed 


38  Fairy  Book. 

and  creep  under  the  coverlid  was  play  for  the  cousin  of  the 
rats.  He  went  straight  to  Perlino's  breast,  but  before  mak- 
ing a  hole  in  it  he  listened.  The  heart  did  not  beat ;  there 
was  no  more  doubt — Perlino  was  enchanted. 

Just  as  the  mouse  brought  back  this  news,  day  broke,  and 
the  lady  appeared,  smiling  maliciously.  Violet,  furious  at 
having  been  played  with,  gnawed  her  fingers  in  anger.  She 
nevertheless  made  a  low  courtesy  to  the  countess,  saying  to 
herself,  "  To-morrow  I  will  have  my  revenge." 


IX. 

PATITA,   PATITE. 

THIS  time  Violet  went  down  to  the  court-yard  with  more 
courage ;  her  hope  had  revived.  As  on  the  day  before,  she 
found  the  maids  of  honor  there  still  spinning  on  their  dis- 
taffs. "  Come,  handsome  piper,"  they  cried,  laughing,  "  what 
have  you  to  show  us  now  ?" 

"Something  that  will  please  you,  fair  ladies,"  answered 
Violet. 

" '  Patita,  Patite, 

Look  well  and  you'll  see.'  " 

The  squirrel  threw  one  of  his  nuts  on  the  ground,  and  a 
puppet-show  instantly  appeared.  The  curtain  rose.  The 
scene  represented  a  court  of  justice.  At  the  upper  end  of 
the  room,  on  a  throne  hung  with  red  velvet  spangled  with 
stars,  sat  the  judge,  a  huge  cat  of  respectable  appearance, 
notwithstanding  a  few  crumbs  of  cheese  that  remained  on  his 
long  whiskers.  Buried  in  contemplation,  with  his  hands  cross- 
ed under  his  long  sleeves  and  his  eyes  closed,  you  would  have 
thought  him  sleeping,  if  justice  ever  slumbered  in  the  king- 
dom of  cats. 

On  the  side  was  a  wooden  bench,  on  which  were  chained 


Per  lino.  39 

three  mice,  whose  teeth  had  been  filed  and  ears  cut  off  by  way 
of  precaution.  They  were  suspected,  which  at  Naples  means 
convicted,  of  having  looked  too  closely  at  a  rind  of  musty 
bacon.  Opposite  the  culprits  was  a  canopy  of  black  cloth, 
on  which  was  inscribed,  in  letters  of  gold,  the  sentence  of  the 
great  poet  and  magician  Virgil, 

"  CRUSH   THE   MICE,  BUT   SPARE  THE   CATS." 

Under  the  canopy  stood  the  public  prosecutor,  a  weasel 
with  a  receding  forehead,  red  eyes,  and  pointed  tongue,  who, 
with  one  hand  on  his  heart,  was  eloquently  demanding  that 
the  law  should  condemn  the  mice  to  the  gallows.  His  words 
flowed  like  a  silvery  fountain  ;  he  prayed  for  the  death  of 
these  wretched  little  animals  in  so  tender  and  pathetic  a  voice 
that  one  became  indignant  at  their  obduracy.  They  seemed 
wholly  lacking  in  their  duty  in  not  themselves  offering  their 
guilty  heads  to  calm  the  feelings  and  dry  the  tears  of  this  ex- 
cellent weasel,  whose  voice  was  choked  with  such  emotion. 

When  the  prosecutor  had  finished  his  touching  speech,  a 
young  rat,  scarcely  weaned,  rose  to  defend  the  culprits.  He 
had  just  adjusted  his  spectacles,  taken  off  his  cap,  and  turned 
down  his  sleeves,  when  the  cat,  through  respect  for  free  de- 
fense and  for  the  interest  of  the  accused,  forbade  him  to 
speak  ;  after  which,  in  a  solemn  voice,  Master  Grimalkin 
soundly  rated  the  accused,  witnesses,  society,  heaven,  earth, 
and  rats.  Then,  putting  on  his  cap,  he  pronounced  an  aveng 
ing  sentence,  condemning  these  guilty  animals  to  be  hung  and 
flayed  on  the  spot,  their  goods  to  be  confiscated,  their  mem- 
ory to  be  branded,  and  themselves  to  pay  the  costs  of  the 
suit ;  imprisonment  for  debt  being  limited,  however,  to  five 
years,  as  it  was  necessary  to  be  humane  even  to  villains. 

The  farce  played,  the  curtain  fell. 

"  How  natural  it  is !"  cried  the  Lady  of  the  Chinking  Guin- 


40  Fairy  Book. 

eas.    "  It  is  the  justice  of  cats  copied  to  the  life.     Shepherd  01 
sorcerer,  whatever  you  may  be,  sell  me  your  star  chamber." 
"  At  the  same  price,  madam,"  answered  Violet. 
"  You  shall  sleep  here  to-night,"  returned  the  countess. 
"  Yes,  madam,"  replied  Violet;  adding  to  herself,  "  May  you 
repay  me  for  all  the  harm  you  have  done  me !" 

While  the  comedy  was  being  played  in  the  court-yard,  the 
squirrel  had  not  wasted  his  time.  By  dint  of  climbing  over 
the  roofs,  he  had  finally  discovered  Perlino  eating  figs  in  the 
garden.  From  the  roof  it  was  an  easy  matter  to  leap  to  a 
tree,  and  from  the  tree  to  a  thicket,  until  he  at  length  reach- 
ed Perlino,  who  was  playing  morra  with  his  shadow,  a  sure 
way  of  always  winning.  To  play  morra,  one  player  holds  up 
one  or  more  fingers,  and  the  other  bets  at  the  same  instant 
how  many  he  will  hold  up. 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  squirrel,  "  solitude  has  its  charms ; 
but  you  do  not  look  as  if  playing  alone  amused  you  much ; 
suppose  we  have  a  game  together." 

"  Bah !"  said  Perlino,  "  your  fingers  are  too  short,  and  you 
are  nothing  but  an  animal." 

"  Short  fingers  are  not  always  a  fault,"  replied  the  squirrel ; 
"I  have  seen  more  than  one  man  hung  whose  only  crime 
was  that  of  having  them  too  long ;  and  if  I  am  an  animal, 
Master  Perlino,  at  least  I  am  a  wide-awake  animal.  That  is 
better  than  having  so  much  wit  and  sleeping  like  a  dormouse. 
If  happiness  ever  knocks  at  my  door  in  the  night,  at  least  I 
shall  be  up  to  let  it  in." 

"  Speak  clearly,"  said  Perlino.  "  Something  strange  has 
been  the  matter  with  me  for  the  last  two  days.  My  head  is 
heavy  and  my  heart  sorrowful,  and  I  have  horrible  dreams. 
What  is  the  reason  ?" 

"  Guess !"  said  the  squirrel.  "  Do  not  drink  and  you  will 
not  sleep ;  do  not  sleep  and  you  will  see  many  things.  A  word 


Perlino.  4 1 

to  the  wise  is  sufficient."     Saying  this,  he  sprang  on  a  branch 
and  disappeared. 

Since  Perlino  had  lived  in  retirement,  reason  had  come  to 
him.  Nothing  makes  one  so  wicked  as  being  dull  in  com- 
pany; nothing  makes  him  so  wise  as  being  dull  alone.  At 
supper  he  studied  the  face  and  smile  of  the  Lady  of  the 
Chinking  Guineas.  He  *seemed  as  gay  as  usual,  but  every 
time  that  she  gave  him  the  cup  of  forge tfulness,  he  went  to 
the  window,  pretending  to  admire  the  beauty  of  the  evening, 
and  threw  the  gold  into  the  garden,  where  it  fell,  it  is  said,  on 
some  white  beetles  that  were  burrowing  in  the  ground,  and 
from  that  time  the  cockchafers  were  golden. 

X. 

THE    RECOGNITION. 

ON  entering  his  room,  Perlino  noticed  the  piper  looking  at 
him  mournfully,  but  he  did  not  stop  for  any  questions,  such 
was  his  haste  to  be  alone  to  see  whether  happiness  would 
knock  at  his  door,  and  in  what  form  it  would  come.  His 
anxiety  was  not  of  long  duration.  He  was  not  yet  in  bed 
when  he  heard  Violet's  sweet  and  plaintive  voice,  reminding 
him,  in  the  most  tender  terms,  how  she  had  moulded  and 
made  him  with  her  own  hands  ;  how  it  was  to  her  prayers  that 
he  owed  his  life ;  how,  notwithstanding,  he  had  suffered  him- 
self to  be  seduced  and  carried  off;  and  how  she  had  pursued 
him  with  such  toil  and  pains.  Violet  also  told  him,  in  still 
more  touching  accents,  how  she  had  watched  for  the  last  two 
nights  at  his  door,  and,  to  obtain  this  favor,  had  given  away 
treasures  worthy  of  a  king  without  obtaining  a  single  word 
from  him  ;  and  how  this  night  was  the  end  of  her  hopes  and 
life. 

On  listening  to  these  words,  which  pierced  his  soul,  it  seem- 


42  Fairy  Book. 

ed  to  Perlino  that  he  had  awakened  from  a  dream,  and  that 
a  cloud  fell  from  his  eyes.  He  opened  the  door,  and  softly 
called  Violet,  who  threw  herself  into  his  arms  weeping.  He 
attempted  to  speak,  but  she  stopped  him.  We  always  believe 
those  we  love,  and  there  are  moments  when  we  are  too  happy 
for  any  thing  but  tears. 

"  Let  us  go,"  said  Perlino ;  "  let  us  quit  this  hateful  dun- 
geon." 

"  To  go  is  not  so  easy,  Master  Perlino,"  answered  the  squir- 
rel ;  "  the  Lady  of  the  Chinking  Guineas  does  not  willingly 
let  go  of  what  she  has  in  her  clutches.  We  have  exhausted 
all  our  gifts  in  awakening  you,  and  to  save  you  a  miracle  is 
needed." 

"  Perhaps  I  have  a  means,"  said  Perlino,  whose  wit  grew 
as  the  sap  rises  in  the  trees  in  spring-time. 

He  took  the  cornet  which  contained  the  magic  powder,  and 
made  his  way  to  the  stable,  followed  by  Violet  and  the  three 
friends,  saddled  the  best  horse,  and,  walking  softly,  reached 
the  gate  where  the  jailer  was  sleeping,  his  keys  in  his  belt. 
At  the  sound  of  footsteps  the  man  awoke  and  started  up.  Be- 
fore he  had  time  to  open  his  mouth,  Perlino  poured  the  pot- 
able gold  down  his  throat,  at  the  risk  of  suffocating  him  ;  but, 
instead  of  complaining,  he  began  to  smile,  and  fell  back  in 
his  chair,  closing  his  eyes,  and  stretching  out  his  hands  for 
more.  To  seize  the  bunch  of  keys,  open  the  gate,  shut  it 
again,  triple  lock  it,  and  throw  the  keys  of  perdition  into  the 
ditch  to  imprison  covetousness  forever,  was  the  work  of  an 
instant.  Unhappily,  Perlino  forgot  the  keyhole,  which  left 
room  enough  for  it  to  escape,  and  invade  the  human  heart 
anew. 

At  length  they  were  free  and  on  the  road  homeward,  both 
mounted  on  the  same  horse,  Perlino  in  front  and  Violet  be- 
hind. She  wound  her  arm  round  the  neck  of  her  beloved, 


Perlino. 


43 


and  clasped  him  to  her,  to  be  sure  that  his  heart  was  still  beat- 
ing. Perlino  continually  turned  his  head  to  see  the  face  of 
his  dear  Violet,  and  to  behold  that  smile  which  he  was  in  con- 
stant fear  of  losing.  Fear  and  prudence  were  forgotten ;  and 
if  the  squirrel  had  not  more  than  once  caught  the  reins  to 
keep  the  horse  from  stumbling  or  going  astray,  who  knows 
but  the  travelers  would  still  be  on  the  road  ? 

I  leave  you  to  imagine  the  joy  of  Beppo  at  recovering  his 
daughter  and  son-in-law.  He  seemed  the  youngest  of  the 
household.  He  laughed  all  day  long  without  knowing  why, 
and  wished  to  dance  with  every  body.  He  lost  his  senses  to 
such  a  degree  that  he  doubled  the  salaries  of  his  clerks  and 
settled  a  pension  on  his  cashier,  who  had  served  him  only 
thirty-six  years.  Nothing  blinds  us  like  happiness.  The 


44 


Fairy  Book. 


wedding  was  magnificent,  but  this  time  they  took  care  to  try 
their  friends.  The  bees  came  from  twenty  leagues  round, 
bringing  a  beautiful  cake  of  honey,  and  the  ball  ended  with  a 
tarentella  of  mice  and  a  schottisch  of  squirrels,  which  was 
long  talked  of  in  Paestum.  When  the  sun  drove  away  the 
guests,  Violet  and  Perlino  kept  on  dancing,  and  nothing  could 
stop  them.  Beppo,  who  was  wiser,  made  a  fine  speech  to 
show  them  that  they  were  no  longer  children,  and  that  people 
do  not  marry  for  amusement.  They  threw  themselves  into 
his  arms,  laughing.  A  father's  heart  is  always  weak ;  he  took 
them  by  the  hand,  and  danced  with  them  till  evening. 


ippfltl. 

if?-0    f:-:fi?(: 
l^./^r^'-^x 


YVON  AND  FINETTE. 

A  TALE  OF  BRITTANY. 
I. 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  lived  in  Brittany  a  noble  lord,  who 
was  called  the  Baron  Kerver.  His  manor-house  was  the 
most  beautiful  in  the  province.  It  was  a  great  Gothic  castle, 
with  a  groined  roof  and  walls,  covered  with  carving,  that  look- 
ed at  a  distance  like  a  vine  climbing  over  an  arbor.  On  the 
first  floor  six  stained  glass  balcony  windows  looked  out  on 
each  side  toward  the  rising  and  the  setting  sun.  In  the  morn- 
ing, when  the  baron,  mounted  on  his  dun  mare,  went  forth 
into  the  forest,  followed  by  his  tall  greyhounds,  he  saw  at  each 
window  one  of  his  daughters,  with  prayer-book  in  hand,  pray- 
ing for  the  house  of  Kerver,  and  who,  with  their  fair  curls, 
blue  eyes,  and  clasped  hands,  might  have  been  taken  for  six 
Madonnas  in  an  azure  niche.  At  evening,  when  the  sun  de- 
clined and  the  baron  returned  homeward,  after  riding  round 
his  domains,  he  perceived  from  afar,  in  the  windows  looking 
toward  the  west,  six  sons,  with  dark  locks  and  eagle  gaze,  the 
hope  and  pride  of  the  family;  that  might  have  been  taken  for 
six  sculptured  knights  at  the  portal  of  a  church.  For  ten 
leagues  round,  all  who  wished  to  quote  a  happy  father  and  a 
powerful  lord  named  the  Baron  Kerver. 

The  castle  had  but  twelve  windows,  and  the  baron  had  thir- 
teen children.  The  last,  the  one  that  had  no  place,  was  a 
handsome  boy  of  sixteen,  by  the  name  of  Yvon.  As  usual,  he 
was  the  best  beloved.  In  the  morning,  at  his  departure,  and 


Fairy  Book. 


at  evening,  on  his  return,  the  baron  always  found  Yvon  wait- 
ing on  the  threshold  to  embrace  him.  With  his  hair  falling 
to  his  waist,  his  graceful  figure,  his  willful  air,  and  his  bold 
bearing,  Yvon  was  beloved  by  all  the  Bre- 
tons. At  twelve  years  of  age  he  had 
bravely  attacked  and  killed  a  wolf  with 
an  axe,  which  had  won  him  the  name  of 
Fearless.  He  deserved  the  title,  for  nev- 
er was  there  a  bolder  heart 

One  day,  when  the  baron  had  staid  at 
home,  and  was  amusing  himself  by  break- 
ing a  lance  with  his  squire,  Yvon  entered 
the  armory  in  a  traveling  dress,  and, 
bending  one  knee  to  the  ground, 

"  My  lord  and  father,"  said  he  to  the 
baron,  "  I  come  to  ask  your  blessing.  The  house  of  Ker- 
ver  is  rich  in  knights,  and  has  no  need  of  a  child ;  it  is  time 
for  me  to  go  to  seek  my  fortune.  I  wish  to  go  to  distant 
countries  to  try  my  strength,  and  to  make  myself  a  name." 

"  You  are  right,  Fearless,"  replied  the  baron,  more  moved 
than  he  wished  to  appear.  "  I  will  not  keep  you  back ;  I  have 
no  right  to  do  so  ;  but  you  are  very  young,  my  child  ;  perhaps 
it  would  be  better  for  you  to  stay  another  year  with  us." 

"  I  am  sixteen,  my  father ;  at  that  age  you  had  already 
fought  one  of  the  proudest  lords  of  the  country.  I  have  not 
forgotten  that  our  arms  are  a  unicorn  ripping  up  a  lion,  and 
our  motto  Onward !  I  do  not  wish  the  Kervers  to  blush  for 
their  last  child." 

Yvon  received  his  father's  blessing,  shook  hands  with  his 
brothers,  embraced  his  sisters,  bid  adieu  to  all  the  weeping 
vassals,  and  set  out  with  a  light  heart. 

Nothing  stopped  him  on  his  way.  A  river  appeared,  he 
swam  it ;  a  mountain,  he  climbed  it ;  a  forest  he  made  his 


Yvon  and  Finette.  47 

way  through  it  with  the  sun  for  a  guide.  On — the  Kerver  !  he 
cried,  whenever  he  met  with  an  obstacle,  and  went  straight  for- 
ward in  spite  of  every  thing. 

For  three  years  he  had  been  roaming  over  the  world  in 
search  of  adventures,  sometimes  conquering,  sometimes  con- 
quered, always  bold  and  gay,  when  he  received  an  offer  to  go 
to  fight  the  heathen  of  Norway.  To  kill  unbelievers  and  to 
conquer  a  kingdom  was  a  double  pleasure.  \  Yvon  enlisted 
twelve  brave  comrades,  freighted  a  ship,  and  hoisted  from  the 
main-mast  a  blue  standard,  with  the  unicorn  and  motto  of  the 
Kervers. 

The  sea  was  calm,  the  wind  fair,  and  the  night  serene. 
Yvon,  stretched  on  the  deck,  watched  the  stars,  and  sought 
the  one  which  cast  its  trembling  light  on  his  father's  castle. 
All  at  once  the  vessel  struck  upon  a  rock ;  a  terrible  crash 
was  heard ;  the  sails  fell  like  tinder ;  and  an  enormous  wave 
burst  over  the  deck,  and  swept  away  every  thing  upon  it. 

"  On — the  Kerver  /"  cried  Yvon,  as  soon  as  his  head  appear- 
ed  above  the  water ;  and  he  began  to  swim  as  tranquilly  as  if 
he  had  been  bathing  in  the  lake  of  the  old  castle.  Happily  the 
moon  was  rising.  Yvon  saw,  at  a  little  distance,  a  black  speck 
among  the  silvery  waves — it  was  land.  He  approached  it, 
not  without  difficulty,  and  finally  succeeded  in  gaining  a  foot- 
hold. Dripping  wet,  exhausted  with  fatigue,  and  out  of  breath, 
he  dragged  himself  on  the  sand ;  then,  without  more  anxiety, 
said  his  prayers,  and  went  to  sleep. 


II. 

IN  the  morning,  on  awaking,  Yvon  tried  to  discover  in  what 
country  he  had  been  cast.  He  saw  in  the  distance  a  house 
as  large  as  a  church,  with  windows  fifty  feet  in  height.  He 
walked  a  whole  day  before  reaching  it.  and  at  last  found  him 


4  8  Fairy  Book. 

self  in  front  of  an  immense  door,  with  a  knocker  so  heavy  that 
it  was  impossible  for  a  man  to  lift  it. 

Yvon  took  a  great  stone  and  began  to  knock.  "  Come  in," 
cried  a  voice,  that  sounded  like  the  roar  of  a  bull.f  At  the 
same  instant  the  door  opened,  and  the  little  Breton  found 
himself  in  the  presence  of  a  giant  not  less  than  forty  feet  in 
height. 

"What  is  your  name,  and  what  do  you  want  here  ?"  said  the 
giant,  taking  up  Yvon  between  his  thumb  and  finger,  and  lift- 
ing him  from  the  ground  so  as  to  see  him  better. 


"  My  name  is  Fearless,  and  I  am  seeking  my  fortune," 


Yvon  and  Finette.  49 

answered  Yvon,  looking  at  the  monster  with  an  air  of  defi- 
ance. 

"  Well,  brave  Fearless,  your  fortune  is  made,"  said  the  giant, 
in  a  mocking  tone.  "  I  am  in  need  of  a  servant,  and  I  will 
give  you  the  place.  You  can  go  to  work  directly.  This  is 
the  time  for  leading  my  sheep  to  the  pasture  j  you  may  clean 
the  stable  while  I  am  gone.  I  shall  give  you  nothing  else  to 
do,"  added  he,  bursting  into  a  laugh.  "  You  see  that  I  am  a 
good  master.  Do  your  task,  and,  above  all  things,  don't  prowl 
about  the  house,  or  it  will  cost  you  your  life." 

"  Certainly  I  have  a  good  master ;  the  work  is  not  hard," 
thought  Yvon,  when  the  giant  was  gone.  "  I  have  plenty  of 
time  to  sweep  the  stable.  What  shall  I  do  meanwhile  to 
amuse  myself?  Shall  I  look  about  the  house  ?  Since  I  am 
forbidden  to  do  so,  it  must  be  because  there  is  something  to 
see." 

He  entered  the  first  room,  and  saw  a  large  fireplace,  in 
which  a  great  pot  was  hanging,  suspended  from  a  hook.  The 
pot  was  boiling,  but  there  was  no  fire  on  the  hearth. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?"  thought  Yvon ;  "  there  is  some 
mystery  here."  He  cut  off  a  lock  of  his  hair,  dipped  it  into 
the  pot,  and  took  it  out  all  coated  with  copper. 

"  Oh,  oh !"  cried  he,  "  this  is  a  new  kind  of  soup ;  any  body 
that  swallows  it  must  have  an  iron-clad  stomach." 

He  went  into  the  next  room ;  there  also  a  pot  was  sus- 
pended from  a  hook,  and  boiling  without  fire.  Yvon  dip- 
ped a  lock  of  hair  into  it,  and  took  it  out  all  coated  with  sil- 
ver. 

"The  broth  is  not  so  rich  as  this  in  the  Kerver  kitchen," 
thought  he, "  but  it  may  have  a  better  taste." 

Upon  this,  he  entered  the  third  room.  There  also  a  pot 
was  suspended  from  a  hook,  and  boiling  without  fire.  Yvoa 
dipped  a  lock  of  hair  into  it,  and  took  it  out  all  coated  with 

C 


50  Fairy  Book. 

gold.  It  shone  so  brightly  that  it  might  have  been  mistaken 
for  a  sunbeam. 

"  Good !"  cried  he.  "  In  our  country  the  old  women  have  a 
saying, '  Every  thing  gets  worse  and  worse  ;'  here  it  is  just  the 
contrary,  every  thing  gets  better  and  better.  What  shall  I  find 
in  the  fourth  room,  I  wonder — diamond  soup  ?" 

He  pushed  open  the  door,  and  saw  something  rarer  than 
precious  stones.  This  was  a  young  woman  of  such  mar- 
velous beauty  that  Yvon,  dazzled,  fell  on  his  knees  at  the 
sight 

"  Unfortunate  youth !"  cried  she,  in  a  trembling  voice, 
"  what  are  you  doing  here  ?" 

"  I  belong  to  the  house,"  answered  Yvon ;  "  the  giant  took 
me  into  his  service  this  morning." 

"  His  service  !"  repeated  the  young  girl.  "  May  Heaven 
preserve  you  from  it!" 

"  Why  so  ?"  said  Yvon.  "  I  have  a  good  master ;  the  work 
is  not  hard.  The  stable  once  swept,  my  task  is  finished." 

"  Yes,  and  how  will  you  set  to  work  to  sweep  it  ?"  said  the 
lady.  "  If  you  sweep  it  in  the  usual  way,  for  every  forkfull  of 
dung  that  you  throw  out  of  the  door,  ten  will  come  in  at  the 
window.  But  I  will  tell  you  what  to  do.  Turn  the  fork  and 
sweep  with  the  handle,  and  the  dung  will  instantly  fly  out  of 
itself." 

"  I  will  obey,"  said  Yvon  ;  upon  which  he  sat  down  by  the 
young  girl  and  began  to  talk  with  her.  She  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  fairy,  whom  the  wretched  giant  had  made  his  slave. 
Friendship  soon  springs  up  between  companions  in  misfor- 
tune. Before  the  end  of  the  day,  Finette  (for  that  was  the 
lady's  name)  and  Yvon  had  already  promised  to  belong  to 
each  other,  if  they  could  escape  from  their  abominable  mas- 
ter. The  difficulty  was  to  find  the  means.  . 

Time  passes  quickly  in  this  kind  of  talk.     Evening  was  ap« 


Yvon  and  Finette.  51 

preaching,  when  Finette  sent  away  her  new  friend,  advising 
him  to  sweep  the  stable  before  the  giant  came  home. 

Yvon  took  down  the  fork,  and  attempted  to  use  it  as  he 
had  seen  it  done  at  his  father's  castle.  He  soon  had  enough 
of  it.  In  less  than  a  second,  there  was  so  much  dung  in  the 
stable  that  the  poor  boy  knew  not  which  way  to  turn.  He 
did  as  Finette  had  bid  him ;  he  turned  the  fork  and  swept 
with  the  handle,  when  behold !  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  the 
stable  was  as  clean  as  if  no  cattle  had  ever  entered  it. 

The  task  finished,  Yvon  seated  himself  on  a  bench  before 
the  door  of  the  house.  As  soon  as  he  saw  the  giant  coming, 
he  lolled  back  in  his  seat,  crossed  his  legs,  and  began  to  sing 
one  of  his  native  airs. 

"  Have  you  cleaned  the  stable  ?"  asked  the  giant,  with  a 
frown. 

"  Every  thing  is  ready,  master,"  answered  Yvon,  without 
troubling  himself  to  move. 

"  I  am  going  to  see  for  myself,"  howled  the  giant.  He  en- 
tered the  stable  grumbling,  found  every  thing  in  order,  and 
came  out  furious. 

"  You  have  seen  my  Finette,"  cried  he ;  "  this  trick  did  not 
come  from  your  own  head." 

"  What  is  myfinette  ?"  asked  Yvon,  opening  his  mouth  and 
shutting  his  eyes.  "  Is  it  one  of  the  animals  that  you  have  in 
this  country  ?  Show  it  to  me,  master." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  fool,"  replied  the  giant ;  "  you  will  see 
her  sooner  than  you  will  want  to." 

The  next  morning  the  giant  gathered  his  sheep  together  to 
lead  them  to  the  pasture  ;  but,  before  setting  out,  he  ordered 
Yvon  to  go  in  the  course  of  the  day  in  search  of  his  horse, 
which  was  turned  out  to  graze  on  the  mountain.  "  After  that,'" 
said  he,  bursting  into  a  laugh,  "  you  can  rest  all  day  long. 
You  see  that  I  am  a  good  master.  Do  your  task  ;  and,  above 


52  Fairy  Book. 

all  things,  don't  prowl  about  the  house,  or  I  will  cut  off  your 
head." 

Yvon  winked  his  eye  as  the  giant  left.  "  Yes,  you  are  a 
good  master,"  said  he,  between  his  teeth.  "  I  understand  your 
cricks ;  but,  in  spite  of  your  threats,  I  shall  go  into  the  house, 
J.nd  tall^  with  your  Finette.  It  remains  to  be  seen  whether 
she  will  not  be  more  mine  than  yours." 

He  ran  to  the  young  girl's  room.  "  Hurrah !"  cried  he ; 
"  I  have  nothing  to  do  all  day  but  to  go  to  the  mountain  after 
a  horse." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Finette ;  "  how  will  you  set  to  work  to 
ride  him  ?" 

"A  fine  question,"  returned  Yvon.  "As  if  it  was  a  difficult 
thing  to  ride  a  horse  !  I  fancy  that  I  have  ridden  worse  ones 
than  this." 

"  It  is  not  so  easy  as  you  think,"  replied  Finette ;  "  but  I 
will  tell  you  what  to  do.  Take  the  bit  that  hangs  behind  the 
stable-door,  and,  when  the  animal  rushes  toward  you  breath- 
ing fire  and  smoke  from  his  nostrils,  force  it  straight  between 
his  teeth ;  he  will  instantly  become  as  gentle  as  a  lamb,  and 
you  can  do  what  you  please  with  him." 

"I  will  obey,"  said  Yvon;  upon  which  he  sat  down  by  the 
side  of  Finette,  and  began  to  talk  with  her.  They  talked  of 
every  thing  ;  but,  however  far  their  fancy  strayed,  they  always 
came  back  to  the  point  that  they  were  promised  to  each  other, 
and  that  they  must  escape  from  the  giant.  Time  passes  quick- 
ly in  this  kind  of  talk.  The  evening  drew  nigh.  Yvon  had 
forgotten  the  horse  and  the  mountain,  and  Finette  was  obliged 
to  send  him  away,  advising  him  to  bring  back  the  animal  be- 
fore his  master's  arrival. 

Yvon  took  down  the  bit  that  was  hidden  behind  the  stable- 
door,  and  hastened  to  the  mountain,  when  lo  !  a  horse  almost 
as  large  as  an  elephant  rushed  toward  him  at  full  gallop, 


Yvon  and  Finette. 


53 


breathing  fire  and  smoke  from  his  nostrils.  Yvon  firmly 
awaited  the  huge  animal,  and,  the  moment  he  opened  his  enor- 
mous jaws,  thrust  between  them  the  bit ;  when  lo  !  the  horse 
instantly  became  as  gentle  as  a  lamb.  Yvon  made  him  kneel 
down,  sprang  on  his  back,  and  tranquilly  returned  home. 


His  task  finished,  Yvon  seated  himself  on  the  bench  before 
the  door  of  the  house.  As  soon  as  he  saw  the  giant  coming, 
he  lolled  back  in  his  seat,  crossed  his  legs,  and  began  to  sing 
one  of  his  native  airs. 

"  Have  you  brought  back  the  horse  ?"  asked  the  giant,  with 
a  frown. 

"  Yes,  master,"  answered  Yvon,  without  taking  the  trouble 
to  move.  "  He  is  a  fine  animal,  and  does  you  credit.  He  is 


54  Fairy  Book. 

gentle,  well  trained,  and  as  quiet  as  a  lamb.  He  is  feeding 
yonder  in  the  stable." 

"  I  am  going  to  see  for  myself,"  howled  the  giant.  He  en- 
tered the  stable  grumbling,  found  every  thing  in  order,  and 
came  out  furious. 

"  You  have  seen  my  Finette,"  said  he ;  "  this  trick  did  not 
come  from  your  own  head." 

"  Oh,  master,"  returned  Yvon,  opening  his  mouth  and  shut- 
ting his  eyes,  "  it  is  the  same  story  over  again.  What  is  this 
myfinette  ?  Once  for  all,  show  me  this  monster." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  fool,"  returned  the  giant ;  "  you  will 
see  her  sooner  than  you  will  want  to." 

The  third  day  at  dawn  the  giant  gathered  his  sheep  together 
to  lead  them  to  the  pasture ;  but,  before  setting  out,  he  said 
to  Yvon, 

"  To-day  you  must  go  to  the  bottomless  pit  to  collect  my 
rent.  After  that,"  continued  he,  bursting  into  a  laugh,  "  you 
may  rest  all  day  long.  You  see  that  I  am  a  good  master." 

"  A  good  master,  so  be  it,"  murmured  Yvon,  "  but  the  task 
is  none  the  less  hard.  I  will  go  and  see  my  Finette,  as  the 
giant  says ;  I  have  great  need  of  her  help  to  get  through  to- 
day's business." 

When  Finette  had  learned  what  was  the  task  of  the  day, 
"  Well,"  said  she,  "  how  will  you  go  to  work  to  do  it  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Yvon,  sadly ;  "  I  have  never  been  to 
the  bottomless  pit,  and,  even  if  I  knew  the  way  there,  I  should 
not  know  what  to  ask  for.  Tell  me  what  to  do." 

"  Do  you  see  that  great  rock  yonder  ?"  said  Finette  ;  "  that 
is  one  of  the  gates  of  the  bottomless  pit.  Take  this  stick, 
knock  three  times  on  the  stone,  and  a  demon  will  come  out 
all  streaming  with  flames,  who  will  ask  you  how  much  you 
want.  Take  care  to  answer, '  No  more  than  I  can  carry.' " 

"  I  will  obey,"  said  Yvon ;  upon  which  he  took  a  seat  by 


Yvon  and  Finette.  55 

the  side  of  Finette,  and  began  to  talk  with  her.  He  would 
have  been  there  till  this  time  if  the  young  girl  had  not  sent 
him  to  the  great  rock,  when  the  evening  drew  nigh,  to  execute 
the  giant's  commands. 

On  reaching  the  spot  pointed  out  to  him,  Yvon  found  a 
great  block  of  granite.  He  struck  it  three  times  with  the 
stick,  when  lo !  the  rock  opened,  and  a  demon  came  forth  all 
streaming  with  flames. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?"  he  cried. 

"  I  have  come  for  the  giant's  rent,"  answered  Yvon,  calmly. 

"  How  much  do  you  want  ?" 

"  I  never  want  any  more  than  I  can  carry,"  replied  the 
Breton. 

"It  is  well  for  you  that  you  do  not,"  returned  the  man 
in  flames.  "  Enter  this  cavern,  and  you  will  find  what  you 
want." 

Yvon  entered,  and  opened  his  eyes  wide.  Every  where  he 
saw  nothing  but  gold,  silver,  diamonds,  carbuncles,  and  emer- 
alds. They  were  as  numerous  as  the  sands  on  the  sea-shore. 
The  young  Kerver  filled  a  sack,  threw  it  across  his  shoulder, 
and  tranquilly  returned  home. 

His  task  finished,  our  Breton  seated  himself  on  the  bench 
before  the  door  of  the  house.  As  soon  as  he  saw  the  giant 
coming,  he  lolled  back  in  his  seat,  crossed  his  legs,  and  began 
to  sing  one  of  his  native  airs. 

"  Have  you  been  to  the  bottomless  pit  to  collect  my  rent  ?" 
asked  the  giant,  with  a  frown. 

"  Yes,  master,"  answered  Yvon,  without  taking  the  trouble 
to  stir.  "  The  sack  is  there  right  before  your  eyes  ;  you  can 
count  it." 

"  I  am  going  to  see  for  myself,"  howled  the  giant  He  un- 
tied the  strings  of  the  sack,  which  was  so  full  that  the  gold 
and  silver  rolled  in  all  directions. 


56  Fairy  Book. 

"  You  have  seen  my  Finette,"  he  cried ;  "  this  trick  did  not 
come  from  your  own  head." 

"  Don't  you  know  but  one  song,"  said  Yvon,  opening  his 
mouth  and  shutting  his  eyes.  "  It  is  the  old  story,  myfinette, 
myfinette.  Once  for  all,  show  me  this  thing." 

"  Well,  well,"  roared  the  giant  with  fury,  "  wait  till  to-mor- 
row, and  you  shall  make  her  acquaintance." 

"  Thank  you,  master,"  said  Yvon.  "  It  is  very  good  of  you ; 
but  I  see  from  your  face  that  you  are  laughing  at  me." 


III. 

THE  next  morning  the  giant  went  out  without  giving  Yvon 
any  orders,  which  troubled  Finette.  At  noon  he  returned 
without  his  flock,  complaining  of  the  heat  and  fatigue,  and 
said  to  the  young  girl, 

"  You  will  find  a  child,  my  servant,  at  the  door.  Cut  his 
throat,  put  him  into  the  great  pot  to  boil,  and  call  me  when 
the  broth  is  ready."  Saying  this,  he  stretched  himself  on  the 
bed  to  take  a  nap,  and  was  soon  snoring  so  loud  that  it  seem- 
ed like  thunder  shaking  the  mountains. 

Finette  prepared  a  log  of  wood,  took  a  large  knife,  and 
called  Yvon.  She  pricked  his  little  finger;  three  drops  of 
blood  fell  on  the  log. 

"  That  is  enough,"  said  Finette ;  "  now  help  me  to  fill  the 
pot." 

They  threw  into  it  all  that  they  could  find — old  clothes,  old 
shoes,  old  carpets,  and  every  thing  else.  Finette  then  took 
Yvon  by  the  hand,  and  led  him  through  the  three  ante-cham- 
bers, where  she  ran  in  a  mould  three  bullets  of  gold,  two  bul- 
lets of  silver,  and  one  bullet  of  copper,  after  which  they  quit- 
ted the  house  and  ran  toward  the  sea. 

"  On — the  Kerver  /"  cried  Yvon,  as  soon  as  he  saw  himself 


Yvon  and  Finette.  57 

in  the  country.  "  Explain  yourself,  dear  Finette  j  what  farce 
are  we  playing  now  ?" 

"  Let  us  run — let  us  run !"  she  cried ;  "  if  we  do  not  quit 
this  wretched  island  before  night,  it  is  all  over  with  us." 

"On  —  the  KerverT  replied  Yvon,  laughing,  "and  down 
with  the  giant !" 

When  he  had  snored  a  full  hour,  the  giant  stretched  his 
limbs,  half  opened  one  eye,  and  cried,  "  Is  it  ready  ?" 

"  It  is  just  beginning  to  boil,"  answered  the  first  drop  of 
blood  on  the  log. 

The  giant  turned  over,  and  snored  louder  than  ever  for  an 
hour  or  two  longer.  Then  he  stretched  his  limbs,  half  opened 
one  eye,  and  cried  out,  "  Do  you  hear  me  ?  Is  it  almost 
ready  ?" 

"  It  is  half  done,"  answered  the  second  drop  of  blood  on 
the  log. 

The  giant  turned  over,  and  slept  an  hour  longer.  Then  he 
yawned,  stretched  his  great  limbs,  and  cried  out  impatiently, 

"  Isn't  it  ready  yet  ?" 

"  It  is  ready  now,"  answered  the  third  drop  of  blood  on  the 
log. 

The  giant  sat  up  in  bed,  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  looked  around 
to  see  who  had  spoken ;  but  it  was  in  vain  to  look ;  he  saw 
nobody. 

"Finette,"  howled  he,  "why  isn't  the  table  set?" 

There  was  no  answer.  The  giant,  furious,  sprang  out  of 
bed,  seized  a  ladle,  which  looked  like  a  caldron  with  a  pitch- 
fork for  a  handle,  and  plunged  it  into  the  pot  to  taste  the  soup. 

"  Finette  !"  howled  he,  "  you  haven't  salted  it.  What  sort 
of  a  soup  is  this  ?  I  see  neither  meat  nor  vegetables." 

No ;  but,  in  return,  he  saw  his  carpet,  which  had  not  quite 
all  boiled  to  pieces.  At  this  sight  he  fell  into  such  a  fit  of 
rage  that  he  could  not  keep  his  feet. 

C2 


58  Fairy  Book. 

"  Villains  !"  said  he,  "  you  have  played  a  fine  trick  on  me ; 
but  you  shall  pay  for  it." 

He  rushed  out  with  a  stick  in  his  hand,  and  strode  along 
at  such  a  rate  that  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  discovered  the 
two  fugitives  still  far  from  the  sea-shore.  He  uttered  such  a 
cry  of  joy  that  the  earth  shook  for  twelve  leagues  around. 

Finette  stopped,  trembling.    Yvon  clasped  her  to  his  heart, 

"On — the  Kerver!"  said  he;  "the  sea  is  not  far  off;  we 
shall  be  there  before  our  enemy." 

"  Here  he  is !  here  he  is !"  cried  Finette,  pointing  to  the 
giant  not  a  hundred  yards  off;  "  we  are  lost  if  this  charm  does 
not  save  us." 

She  took  the  copper  bullet  and  threw  it  on  the  ground, 
saying, 

"  Copper  bullet,  save  us,  pray, 
Stop  the  giant  on  his  way." 

And  behold,  the  earth  cracked  apart  with  a  terrific  noise, 
and  an  enormous  fissure,  a  bottomless  pit,  stopped  the  giant 
just  as  he  was  stretching  out  his  hand  to  seize  his  prey. 

"  Let  us  fly !"  cried  Finette,  grasping  the  arm  of  Yvon,  who 
Was  gazing  at  the  giant  with  a  swaggering  air,  defying  him  to 
come  on. 

The  giant  ran  backward  and  forward  along  the  abyss  like 
a  bear  in  his  cage,  seeking  a  passage  every  where  and  finding 
none ;  then,  with  a  furious  jerk,  he  tore  up  an  immense  oak 
by  the  roots,  and  flung  it  across  the  gap.  The  branches  of 
the  oak  nearly  crushed  the  children  as  it  fell.  The  giant 
seated  himself  astride  the  huge  tree,  which  bent  under  his- 
weight,  and  crept  slowly  along,  suspended  between  heaven 
and  earth,  entangled  as  he  was  among  the  branches.  When 
he  reached  the  other  side,  Yvon  and  Finette  were  already  on 
the -shore,  with  the  sea  rolling  before  them. 

Alas  !  there  was  neither  bark  nor  ship.    The  fugitives  were 


Yvon  and  Finette. 


59 


lost.  Yvon,  always  brave,  picked  up  stones  to  attack  the 
giant,  and  to  sell  his  life  dearly.  Finette,  trembling  with  fear, 
threw  one  of  the  silver  bullets  into  the  sea,  saying, 

"  Silver  bullet,  bright  and  pliant, 
Save  us  from  this  frightful  giant." 

Scarcely  had  she  spoken  the  magic  words  when  a  beautiful 
ship  rose  from  the  waves  like  a  swan  spreading  its  white  wings. 
Yvon  and  Finette  plunged 
into  the  sea ;  Xa  rope  was 
thrown  them  by  an  invisible 
hand  ;  and  when  the  furious 
giant  reached  the  shore,  the 
ship  was  receding  rapidly  at 
full  sail,  leaving  behind  it  a 
long  furrow  of  shining  foam. 

Giants  do  not  like  the  wa- 
ter. This  fact  is  certified  to 
by  old  Homer,  who  knew 
Polyphemus ;  and  the  same 
observation  will  be  found  in 
all  natural  histories  worthy 
of  the  name.  Finette's  mas- 
ter resembled  Polyphemus. 
He  roared  with  rage  when 
he  saw  his  slaves  about  to 
escape  him.  He  ran  hesi- 
tatingly along  the  shore  ;  he 
flung  huge  masses  of  rock 
after  the  vessel,  which  hap- 
pily fell  by  the  side  of  it,  and 
only  made  great  black  holes 
in  the  water ;  and,  finally, 
mad  with  anger,  he  plunged 


60  Fairy  Book. 

head  foremost  into  the  sea,  and  began  to  swim  after  the  ship 
with  frightful  speed.  At  each  stroke  he  advanced  forty  feet, 
blowing  like  a  whale,  and  like  a  whale  cleaving  the  waves. 
By  degrees  he  gained  on  his  enemies ;  one  more  effort  would 
bring  him  within  reach  of  the  rudder,  and  already  he  was 
stretching  out  his  arm  to  seize  it,  when  Finette  threw  the  sec- 
ond silver  bullet  into  the  sea,  and  cried,  in  tears, 

"  Silver  bullet,  bright  and  pliant, 
Save  us  from  this  frightful  giant." 

Suddenly  from  the  midst  of  the  foam  darted  forth  a  gi- 
gantic sword  fish,  with  a  sword  at  least  twenty  feet  in  length. 
It  rushed  straight  toward  the  giant,  "who  scarcely  had  time  to 
dive,  chased  him  under  the  water,  pursued  him  on  the  top  of 
the  waves,  followed  him  closely  whichever  way  he  turned,  and 
forced  him  to  flee  as  fast  as  he  could  to  his  island,  where  he 
finally  landed  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  and  fell  upon  the 
shore  dripping,  worn  out,  and  conquered. 

"  On — the  Kerver  T  cried  Yvon  ;  "  we  are  saved." 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Finette,  trembling.  "  The  giant  has  a  witch 
for  a^  godmother ;  I  fear  that  she  will  revenge  on  me  the  in- 
sult offered  to  her  godson.  My  art  tells  me,  my  dear  Yvon, 
that  if  you  quit  me  a  single  instant  until  you  give  me  your 
name  in  the  chapel  of  the  Kervers,  I  have  every  thing  to 
dread." 

"  By  the  unicorn  of  my  ancestors,"  cried  Yvon,  "  you  have 
the  heart  of  a  hare  and  not  of  a  hero !  Am  I  not  here  ?  Am 
I  going  to  abandon  you?  Do  you  believe  that  Providence 
has  saved  us  from  the  fangs  of  that  monster  to  wreck  us  in 
port?" 

He  laughed  so  gayly  that  Finette  laughed  in  turn  at  the 
terror  that  had  seized  her. 


Yvon  and  Finette.  61 


IV. 

THE  rest  of  the  voyage  passed  off  admirably.  An  invisible 
hand  seemed  to  impel  the  ship  onward.  Twenty  days  after 
their  departure  the  boat  landed  Yvon  and  Finette  near  Ker- 
ver  Castle.  Once  on  shore,  Yvon  turned  to  thank  the  crew. 
No  one  was  there.  Both  boat  and  ship  had  vanished  under 
the  waves,  leaving  no  trace  behind  but  a  gull  on  the  wing. 

Yvon  recognized  the  spot  where  he  had  so  often  gathered 
shells  and  chased  the  crabs  to  their  holes  when  a  child. 
Half  an  hour's  walk  would  bring  him  in  sight  of  the  towers 
of  the  old  castle.  His  heart  beat ;  he  looked  tenderly  at 
Finette,  and  saw,  for  the  first  time,  that  her  dress  was  fan- 
tastic, and  unworthy  of  a  woman  about  to  enter  the  noble 
house  of  Kerver. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  he, "  the  baron,  my  father,  is  a  no- 
ble lord,  accustomed  to  be  treated  with  respect.  I  can  not 
introduce  you  to  him  in  this  gipsy  dress ;  neither  is  it  fitting 
that  you  should  enter  our  great  castle  on  foot  like  a  peasant. 
Wait  for  me  a  few  moments,  and  I  will  bring  you  a  horse  and 
one  of  my  sister's  dresses.  I  wish  you  to  be  received  like  a 
lady  of  high  degree.  I  wish  my  father  himself  to  meet  you 
on  your  arrival,  and  hold  it  an  honor  to  give  you  his  hand." 

"  Yvon,  Yvon,"  cried  Finette,  "  do  not  quit  me,  I  beg  you. 
Once  returned  to  your  castle,  I  know  that  you  will  forget  me." 

"  Forget  you !"  exclaimed  Yvon.  "  If  any  one  else  were  to 
offer  me  such  an  insult,  I  would  teach  him  with  my  sword  to 
suspect  a  Kerver.  Forget  you,  my  Finette  !  you  do  not  know 
the  fidelity  of  a  Breton." 

That  the  Bretons  are  faithful,  no  one  doubts  ;  but  that  they 
are  still  more  headstrong  is  a  justice  that  none  will  deny 


62  Fairy  Book. 

them.  It  was  useless  for  poor  Finette  to  plead  in  her  most 
loving  tones ;  she  was  forced  to  yield.  She  resigned  herself 
with  a  heavy  heart,  and  said  to  Yvon, 

"  Go  without  me,  then,  to  your  castle,  but  only  stay  long 
enough  to  speak  to  your  friends ;  then  go  straight  to  the  sta- 
ble, and  return  as  soon  as  possible.  You  will  be  surrounded 
by  people ;  act  as  if  you  saw  no  one,  and,  above  all,  do  not 
eat  or  drink  any  thing  whatever.  Should  you  take  only  a 
glass  of  water,  evil  would  come  upon  us  both." 

Yvon  promised  and  swore  all  that  Finette  asked,  but  he 
smiled  in  his  heart  at  this  feminine  weakness.  He  was  sure 
of  himself;  and  he  thought  with  pride  how  different  a  Breton 
was  from  those  fickle  Frenchmen,  whose  words,  they  say,  are 
borne  away  by  the  first  breath  of  the  wind. 

6n  entering  the  old  castle  he  could  scarcely  recognize  its 
dark  walls.  All  the  windows  were  festooned  with  leaves  and 
flowers  within  and  without ;  the  court-yard  was  strewn  with 
fragrant  grass ;  on  one  side  were  spread  tables  groaning  un- 
der their  weight ;  on  the  other,  musicians,  mounted  on  casks, 
were  playing  merry  airs.  The  vassals,  dressed  in  their  holi- 
day attire,  were  singing  and  dancing,  and  dancing  and  sing- 
ing. It  was  a  great  day  of  rejoicing  at  the  castle.  The  baron 
himself  was  smiling.  It  is  true  that  he  had  just  married  his 
fifth  daughter  to  the  Knight  of  Kervalec.  This  marriage 
added  another  quartering  to  the  illustrious  escutcheon  of  the 
Kervers. 

Yvon,  recognized  and  welcomed  by  all  the  crowd,  was  in- 
stantly surrounded  by  his  relatives,  who  embraced  him  and 
shook  him  by  the  hand.  Where  had  he  been?  Where  did 
he  come  from  ?  Had  he  conquered  a  kingdom,  a  duchy,  or  a 
barony?  Had  he  brought  the  bride  the  jewels  of  some  queen  ? 
Had  the  fairies  protected  him?  How  many  rivals  had  he 
overthrown?  All  these  questions  were  showered  upon  him 


Yvon  and  Finette.  63 

without  reply.  Yvon  respectfully  kissed  his  father's  hand, 
hastened  to  his  sisters'  chamber,  took  two  of  their  finest 
dresses,  went  to  the  stable,  saddled  a  pony,  mounted  a  beau- 
tiful Spanish  jennet,  and  was  about  to  quit  the  castle,  when 
he  found  his  relatives,  friends,  squires,  and  vassals  all  stand- 
ing in  his  way,  their  glasses  in  their  hands,  ready  to  drink 
their  young  lord's  health  and  his  safe  return. 

Yvon  gracefully  thanked  them,  bowed,  and  made  his  way 
by  degrees  through  the  crowd,  when,  just  as  he  was  about  to 
cross  the  draw-bridge,  a  fair-haired  lady,  with  a  haughty  and 
disdainful  air,  a  stranger  to  him,  a  sister  of  the  bridegroom, 
perhaps,  approached  him,  holding  a  pomegranate  in  her  hand. 

"  My  handsome  knight,"  said  she,  with  a  singular  smile, 
"you  surely  will  not  refuse  a  lady's  first  request.  Taste  this 
pomegranate,  I  entreat  you.  If  you  are  neither  hungry  nor 
thirsty  after  so  long  a  journey,  I  suppose  at  least  that  you 
have  not  forgotten  the  laws  of  politeness." 

Yvon  dared  not  refuse  this  appeal.  He  was  very  wrong. 
Scarcely  had  he  tasted  the  pomegranate  when  he  looked 
round  him  like  a  man  waking  from  a  dream. 

"  What  am  I  doing  on  this  horse  ?"  thought  he.  "  What 
means  this  'pony  that  I  am  leading  ?  Is  not  my  place  in  my 
father's  house  at  my  sister's  wedding  ?  Why  should  I  quit 
the  castle  ?" 

He  threw  the  bridle  to  one  of  the  grooms,  leaped  lightly  to 
the  ground,  and  offered  his  hand  to  the  fair-haired  lady,  who 
accepted  him  as  her  attendant  on  the  spot,  and  gave  him  her 
bouquet  to  hold  as  a  special  mark  of  favor. 

Before  the  evening  was  over  there  was  another  betrothed 
couple  in  the  castle.  Yvon  had  pledged  his  faith  to  the  un- 
known lady,  and  Finette  was  forgotten. 


64  Fairy  Book. 


V. 

POOR  Finette,  seated  on  the  sea-shore,  waited  all  day  long 
for  Yvon,  but  Yvon  did  not  come.  The  sun  was  setting  in 
the  fiery  waves,  when  Finette  rose,  sighing,  and  took  the  way 
to  the  castle  in  her  turn.  She  had  not  walked  long  in  a  steep 
road,  bordered  with  thorn  trees  in  blossom,  when  she  found 
herself  in  front  of  a  wretched  hut,  at  the  door  of  which  stood 
an  old  woman  about  to  milk  her  cow.  Finette  approached 
her,  and,  making  a  low  courtesy,  begged  a  shelter  for  the 
night. 

The  old  woman  looked  at  the  stranger  from  head  to  foot. 
With  her  buskins  trimmed  with  fur,  her  full  red  petticoat,  her 
blue  jacket  edged  with  jet,  and  her  diadem,  Finette  looked 
more  like  an  Egyptian  princess  than  a  Christian.  The  old 
woman  frowned,  and,  shaking  her  fist  in  the  face  of  the  poor 
forsaken  girl,  "  Begone,  witch !"  she  cried  ,  "  there  is  no  room 
for  you  in  this  honest  house." 

"  My  good  mother,"  said  Finette,  "  give  me  only  a  corner 
of  the  stable." 

"  Oh,"  said  the  old  woman,  laughing,  and  showing  the  only 
tooth  she  had  left,  which  projected  from  her  mouth  like  a 
bear's  tusk,  "  so  you  want  a  corner  of  the  stable,  do  you ! 
Well,  you  shall  have  it,  if  you  will  fill  my  milk-pail  with  gold." 

"It  is  a  bargain,"  said  Finette,  quietly.  She  opened  a 
leather  purse  which  she  wore  at  her  belt,  took  from  it  a 
golden  bullet,  and  threw  it  into  the  milk-pail,  saying, 

"  Golden  bullet,  precious  treasure, 
Save  me,  if  it  be  thy  pleasure." 

And  behold,  the  pieces  of  gold  began  to  dance  about  in  the 
pail ;  they  rose  higher  and  higher,  flapping  about  like  fish  in 


Yvon  and  Finette.  65 

a  net,  while  the  old  woman  on  her  knees  gazed  with  wonder 
at  the  sight. 

When  the  pail  was  full  the  old  woman  rose,  put  her  arm 
through  the  handle,  and  said  to  Finette,  "  Madam,  all  is  yours, 
the  house,  the  cow,  and  every  thing  else.  Hurrah !  I  am 
going  to  the  town  to  live  like  a  lady  with  nothing  to  do.  Oh 
dear,  how  I  wish  I  were  only  sixty !"  And,  shaking  her  crutch, 
without  looking  backward,  she  set  out  on  a  run  toward  Kerver 
Castle. 

Finette  entered  the  house.  It  was  a  wretched  hovel,  dark, 
low,  damp,  bad-smelling,  and  full  of  dust  and  spiders'  webs — 
a  horrible  refuge  for  a  woman  accustomed  to  living  in  the  gi- 
ant's grand  castle.  Without  seeming  troubled,  Finette  went 
to  the  hearth,  on  which  a  few  green  boughs  were  smoking, 
took  another  golden  bullet  from  her  purse,  and  threw  it  into 
the  fire,  saying, 

"  Golden  bullet,  precious  treasure, 
Save  me,  if  it  be  thy  pleasure." 

The  gold  melted,  bubbled  up,  and  spread  all  over  the  house 
like  running  water,  and  behold !  the  whole  cottage,  the  walls, 
the  thatch,  the  wooden  rocking-chair,  the  stool,  the  chest,  the 
bed,  the  cow's  horns,  every  thing,  even  to  the  spiders  in  their 
webs,  was  turned  to  gold.  The  house  gleamed  in  the  moon- 
light, among  the  trees,  like  a  star  in  the  night. 

When  Finette  had  milked  the  cow  and  drank  a  little  new 
milk,  she  threw  herself  on  the  bed  without  undressing,  and, 
worn  out  by  the  fatigue  of  the  day,  fell  asleep  in  the  midst  of 
her  tears. 

Old  women  do  not  know  how  to  hold  their  tongues,  at  least 
in  Brittany.  Finette's  hostess  had  scarcely  reached  the  vil- 
lage when  she  hastened  to  the  house  of  the  steward.  He 
was  an  important  personage,  who  had  more  than  once  made 
her  tremble  when  she  had  driven  her  cow  into  her  neighbor's 


66  Fairy  Book. 

pasture  by  mistake.  The  steward  listened  to  the  old  woman's 
story,  shook  his  head,  and  said  that  it  looked  like  witchcraft ; 
then  he  mysteriously  brought  a  pair  of  scales,  weighed  the 
guineas,  which  he  found  to  be  genuine  and  of  full  weight, 
kept  as  many  of  them  as  he  could,  and  advised  the  owner  to 
tell  no  one  of  this  strange  adventure.  "  If  it  should  come  to 
the  ears  of  the  bailiff  or  the  seneschal,"  said  he,  "  the  least 
that  would  happen  to  you,  mother,  would  be  to  lose  every  one 
of  these  beautiful  bright  guineas.  Justice  is  impartial;  it 
knows  neither  favor  nor  repugnance  ;  it  takes  the  whole." 

The  old  woman  thanked  the  steward  for  his  advice,  and 
promised  to  follow  it.  She  kept  her  word  so  well  that  she 
only  told  her  story  that  evening  to  two  neighbors,  her  dearest 
friends,  both  of  whom  swore  on  the  heads  of  their  little  chil- 
dren to  keep  it  secret.  The  oath  was  a  solemn  one,  and  so 
well  kept  that  at  noon  the  next  day  there  was  not  a  boy  of  six 
in  the  village  that  did  not  point  his  finger  at  the  old  woman, 
while  the  very  dogs  seemed  to  bark  in  their  language, "  Here 
is  the  old  woman  with  her  guineas  !" 

A  girl  that  amuses  herself  by  filling  milk-pails  with  gold  is 
not  to  be  found  every  day.  Even  though  she  should  be  some- 
thing of  a  witch,  such  a  girl  would  none  the  less  be  a  treasure 
in  a  family.  The  steward,  who  was  a  bachelor,  made  this 
wise  reflection  that  night  on  going  to  bed.  Before  dawn  he 
rose  to  make  his  rounds  in  the  direction  of  the  stranger's  cot- 
tage. By  the  first  gleam  of  day  he  spied  something  shining 
in  the  distance  like  a  light  among  the  woods.  On  reaching 
the  place,  he  was  greatly  surprised  to  find  a  golden  cottage 
instead  of  the  wretched  hut  that  had  stood  there  the  day  be- 
fore. But,  on  entering  the  house,  he  was  much  more  surprised 
and  delighted  to  find  a  beautiful  young  girl,  with  raven  hair, 
sitting  by  the  window,  and  spinning  on  her  distaff  with  the  air 
of  an  empress. 


Yvon  and  Finette.  67 

Like  all  men,  the  steward  did  himself  justice,  and  knew, 
at  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  that  there  was  not  a  woman  in  the 
world  that  would  not  be  too  happy  to  give  him  her  hand. 
Without  hesitating,  therefore,  he  declared  to  Finette  that  he 
had  come  to  marry  her.  The  young  girl  burst  out  laughing, 
upon  which  the  steward  flew  into  a  passion. 

"  Take  care !"  said  he,  in  a  terrible  voice ;  "  I  am  the  mas- 
ter here.  No  one  knows  who  you  are  or  whence  you  came. 
The  gold  that  you  gave  the  old  woman  has  raised  suspi- 
cions. There  is  magic  in  this  house.  If  you  do  not  accept 
me  for  a  husband  this  very  instant,  I  will  arrest  you,  and 
before  night,  perhaps,  a  witch  will  be  burned  before  Kerver 
Castle." 

"You  are  very  amiable,"  said  Finette,  with  a  charming 
grimace ;  "  you  have  a  peculiar  way  of  paying  court  to  ladies. 
Even  when  they  have  decided  not  to  refuse,  a  gallant  man 
spares  their  blushes." 

"We  Bretons  are  plain-spoken  people,"  replied  the  stew- 
ard ;  "  we  go  straight  to  the  point.  Marriage  or  prison,  which 
do  you  choose  ?" 

"  Oh !"  cried  Finette,  laying  down  the  distaff,  "  there  are 
the  firebrands  falling  all  over  the  room." 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself,"  said  the  steward,  "  I  will  pick 
them  up." 

"  Lay  them  carefully  on  the  top  of  the  ashes,"  returned 
Finette.  "  Have  you  the  tongs  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  steward,  picking  up  the  crackling  coals. 

"  Abracadabra  /"  cried  Finette,  rising.  "  Villain,  may  the 
tongs  hold  you,  and  may  you  hold  the  tongs  till  sunset !" 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  The  wicked  steward  stood 
there  all  day  with  the  tongs  in  his  hand,  picking  up  and  throw- 
ing back  the  burning  coals  that  snapped  in  his  face,  and  the 
hot  ashes  that  flew  into  his  eyes.  It  was  useless  for  him  to 


68 


Fairy  Book. 


shout,  pray,  weep,  and  bias- 
pheme ;  no  one  heard  him.  If 
Finette  had  staid  at  home,  she 
would  doubtless  have  taken  pity 
on  him;  but,  after  putting  the 
spell  upon  him,  she  hastened  to 
the  sea-shore,  where,  forgetting 
every  thing  else,  she  watched  for 
Yvon  in  vain. 

The  moment  that  the  sun  set, 
the  tongs  fell  from  the  steward's 
hands.  He  did  not  stop  to  fin- 
ish his  errand,  but  ran  as  if  the  devil  or  justice  were  at  his 
heels.  He  made  such  leaps,  he  uttered  such  groans,  he  was 
so  blackened,  scorched,  and  benumbed,  that  every  one  in  the 
village  was  afraid  of  him,  thinking  that  he  was  mad.  The 
boldest  tried  to  speak  to  him,  but  he  fled  without  answering, 
and  hid  himself  in  his  house,  more  ashamed  than  a  wolf  that 
has  left  his  paw  in  the  trap. 

At  evening,  when  Finette  returned  home  in  despair,  instead 
of  the  steward,  she  found  another  visitor  little  less  formidable. 
The  bailiff  had  heard  the  story  of  the  guineas,  and  had  also 
made  up  his  mind  to  marry  the  stranger.  He  was  not  rough, 
like  the  steward,  but  a  fat,  good-natured  man,  that  could  not 
speak  without  bursting  into  a  laugh,  showing  his  great  yellow 
teeth,  and  puffing  and  blowing  like  an  ox,  though  at  heart  he 
was  not  less  obstinate  or  less  threatening  than  his  predeces- 
sor. Finette  entreated  the  bailiff  to  leave  her  alone.  He 
laughed,  and  hinted  to  her,  in  a  good-natured  way,  that,  by 
right  of  his  office,  he  had  the  power  to  imprison  and  hang  peo- 
ple without  process  of  law.  She  clasped  her  hands,  and  beg- 
ged him  with  tears  to  go.  For  his  only  answer,  he  took  a  roll 
of  parchment  from  his  pocket,  wrote  on  it  a  contract  of  mar- 


Yvon  and  Finette.  69 

riage,  and  declared  to  Finette  that,  should  he  stay  all  night, 
he  would  not  leave  the  house  till  she  had  signed  the  promise. 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  he,  "  if  you  do  not  like  my  person,  I 
have  another  parchment  here  on  which  I  will  write  an  agree- 
ment to  live  apart ;  and  if  my  sight  annoys  you,  you  have  only 
to  shut  your  eyes." 

.  "  Why,"  said  Finette,  "  I  might  decide  to  do  as  you  wish  if 
I  were  sure  of  finding  a  good  husband  in  you ;  but  I  am 
afraid." 

"  Of  what,  my  dear  child  ?"  asked  the  bailiff,  smiling,  and 
already  as  proud  as  a  peacock. 

"  Do  you  think,"  said  she,  with  a  pettish  air,  "  that  a  good 
husband  would  leave  that  door  wide  open,  and  not  know  that 
his  wife  was  freezing  with  cold  ?" 

"You  are  right,  my  dear,"  said  the  bailiff;  "it  was  very 
stupid  in  me.  I  will  go  and  shut  it." 

"  Have  you  hold  of  the  knob  ?"  asked  Finette. 

"Yes,  my  charmer,"  answered  the  happy  bailiff;  "I  am 
just  shutting  the  door." 

" Abracadabra /"  cried  Finette.  "May  you  hold  the  door, 
villain,  and  may  the  door  hold  you  till  daybreak." 

And  behold,  the  door  opened  and  shut,  and  slammed 
against  the  walls  like  an  eagle  flapping  its  wings.  You  may 
judge  what  a  dance  the  poor  captive  kept  up  all  night.  Never 
had  he  tried  such  a  waltz,  and  I  imagine  that  he  never  wished 
to  dance  a  second  one  of  the  same  sort.  Sometimes  the  door 
swung  open  with  him  in  the  street ;  sometimes  it  flew  back 
and  crushed  him  against  the  wall.  He  swung  backward  and 
forward,  screaming,  swearing,  weeping,  and  praying,  but  all  in 
vain ;  the  door  was  deaf,  and  Finette  asleep. 

At  daybreak  his  hands  unclasped,  and  he  fell  in  the  road 
head  foremost.  Without  waiting  to  finish  his  errand,  he  ran 
as  if  the  Moors  were  after  him.  He  did  not  even  turn  round, 


70  .  Fairy  Book. 

for  fear  that  the  door  might  be  at  his  heels.  Fortunately  for 
him,  all  were  still  asleep  when  he  reached  the  village,  and  he 
could  hide  himself  in  bed  without  any  one  seeing  his  deplor- 
able plight.  This  was  a  great  piece  of  good  fortune  for  him, 
for  he  was  covered  with  whitewash  from  head  to  foot,  and  so 
pale,  haggard,  and  trembling  that  he  might  have  been  taken 
for  the  ghost  of  a  miller  escaped  from  the  infernal  regions. 

When  Finette  opened  her  eyes,  she  saw  by  her  bedside  a 
tall  man  dressed  in  black,  with  a  velvet  cap  and  a  sword.  It 
was  the  seneschal  of  the  barony  of  Kerver.  He  stood  with 
his  arms  folded,  gazing  at  Finette  in  a  way  that  chilled  the 
very  marrow  of  her  bones. 

"  What  is  your  name,  vassal  ?"  said  he,  in  a  voice  of  thun- 
der. 

"  Finette,  at  your  service,  my  lord,"  replied  she,  trembling. 

"  Is  this  house  and  furniture  yours  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  lord,  every  thing,  at  your  service." 

"  I  mean  that  it  shall  be  at  my  service,"  returned  the  sen- 
eschal, sternly.  "  Rise,  vassal !  I  do  you  the  honor  to  marry 
you,  and  to  take  yourself,  your  person,  and  your  property  un- 
der my  guardianship." 

"My  lord,"  returned  Finette,  "this  is  much  too  great  an 
honor  for  a  poor  girl  like  me,  a  stranger,  without  friends  or 
kindred." 

"  Be  silent,  vassal !"  replied  the  seneschal.  "I  am  your  lord 
and  master;  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  your  advice.  Sign 
this  paper." 

"  My  lord,"  said  Finette,  "  I  don't  know  how  to  write." 

"  Do  you  think  that  I  do,  either  ?"  returned  the  seneschal, 
in  a  voice  that ;  shook  the  house.  "  Do  you  take  me  for  a 
clerk?  A  cross — that  is  the  signature  of  gentlemen." 

He  made  a  large  cross  on  the  paper,  and  handed  the  pen 
to  Finette. 


Yvon  and  Finette. 


"  Sign,"  said  he.  "  If  you  are  afraid  to  make  a  cross,  in- 
fidel, you  pass  your  own  death  sentence,  and  I  shall  take  on 
myself  to  execute  it."  He  drew  his  heavy  sword  from  the 
scabbard  as  he  spoke,  and  threw  it  on  the  table. 

For  her  only  answer,  Finette  leaped  out  of  the  window,  and 
ran  to  the  stable.  The  seneschal  pursued  her  thither ;  but, 
on  attempting  to  enter,  an  unexpected  obstacle  stopped  him. 
The  frightened  cow  had  backed  at  the  sight  of  the  young  girl, 
and  stood  in  the  doorway  with  Finette  clinging  to  her  horns, 
and  making  of  her  a  sort  of  buckler. 

"You  shall  not  escape 
me,  sorceress  !"  cried  the 
seneschal,  and,  with  a  grasp 
like  that  of  Hercules,  he 
seized  the  cow  by  the  tail, 
and  dragged  her  out  of  the 
stable. 

"Abracadabra  /"  cried 
Finette.  "May  the  cow's 


tail  hold  you,  villain,  and 
may  you  hold  the  cow's  tail 
till  you  have  both  been 


around  the  world  togeth- 


And  behold,  the  cow 
darted  off  like  lightning, 
dragging  the  unhappy 
seneschal  after  her.  No- 
thing stopped  the  two 
inseparable  comrades  ; 
they  rushed  over  mount- 
ains and  valleys,  crossed 
marshes,  rivers,  quag- 


72  Fairy  Book. 

mires,  and  brakes,  glided  over  the  seas  without  sinking,  were 
frozen  in  Siberia  and  scorched  in  Africa,  climbed  the  Hima- 
layas, descended  Mont  Blanc,  and  at  length,  after  thirty-six 
hours  of  a  journey,  the  like  of  which  had  never  been  seen, 
both  stopped  out  of  breath  in  the  public  square  of  the  vil- 
lage. 

A  seneschal  harnessed  to  a  cow's  tail  is  a  sight  not  to  be 
seen  every  day;  and  all  the  peasants  in  the  neighborhood 
crowded  together  to  wonder  at  the  spectacle.  But,  torn  as 
he  was  by  the  cactuses  of  Barbary  and  the  thickets  of  Tartary, 
the  seneschal  had  lost  nothing  of  his  haughty  air.  With  a 
threatening  gesture,  he  dispersed  the  rabble,  and  limped  to 
his  house  to  taste  the  repose  of  which  he  began  to  feel  the 
need. 

VI. 

WHILE  the  steward,  the  bailiff,  and  the  seneschal  were  ex- 
periencing these  little  unpleasantnesses,  of  which  they  did  not 
think  it  proper  to  boast,  preparations  were  being  made  for  a 
great  event  at  Kerver  Castle,  namely,  the  marriage  of  Yvon 
and  the  fair  haired  lady.  Two  days  had  passed  in  these  prep- 
arations, and  all  the  friends  of  the  family  had  gathered  to- 
gether for  twenty  leagues  round,  when,  one  fine  morning 
Yvon  and  his  bride,  with  the  Baron  and  Baroness  Kerver, 
took  their  seats  in  a  great  carriage  adorned  with  flowers,  and 
set  out  for  the  celebrated  church  of  St.  Maclou. 

A  hundred  knights,  in  full  armor,  mounted  on  horses  decked 
with  ribbons,  rode  on  each  side  of  the  betrothed  couple,  each 
with  his  vizor  raised  and  his  lance  at  rest  in  token  of  honor. 
By  the  side  of  each  baron,  a  squire,  also  on  horseback,  carried 
the  seigniorial  banner.  At  the  head  of  the  procession  rode 
the  seneschal,  with  a  gilded  staff  in  his  hand.  Behind  the 
carriage  gravely  walked  the  bailiff,  followed  by  the  vassals, 


Yvon  and  Finette.  73 

while  the  steward  railed  at  the  serfs,  a  noisy  and  curious 
rabble. 

As  they  were  crossing  a  brook,  a  league  from  the  castle, 
one  of  the  traces  of  the  carriage  broke,  and  they  were  forced 
to  stop.  The  accident  repaired,  the  coachman  cracked  his 
whip,  and  the  horses  started  with  such  force  that  the  new 
trace  broke  in  three  pieces.  Six  times  this  provoking  piece 
of  wood  was  replaced,  and  six  times  it  broke  anew,  without 
drawing  the  carriage  from  the  hole  where  it  was  wedged. 

Every  one  had  a  word  of  advice  to  offer ;  even  the  peas- 
ants, as  wheelwrights  and  carpenters,  were  not  the  last  to 
make  a  show  of  their  knowledge*  This  gave  the  steward 
courage ;  he  approached  the  baron,  took  off  his  cap,  and, 
scratching  his  head, 

"  My  lord,"  said  he, "  in  the  house  that  you  see  shining  yon- 
der among  the  trees,  there  lives  a  woman  who  does  things 
such  as  nobody  else  can  do.  Only  persuade  her  to  lend  you 
her  tongs,  and,  in  my  opinion,  they  will  hold  till  morning." 

The  baron  made  a  sign,  and  ten  peasants  ran  to  the  cot- 
tage of  Finette,  who  very  obligingly  lent  them  her  gold  tongs. 
They  were  put  in  the  place  of  the  trace ;  the  coachman  crack- 
ed his  whip,  and  off  went  the  carriage  like  a  feather. 

Every  one  rejoiced,  but  the  joy  did  not  last  long.  A  hund- 
red steps  farther,  lo !  the  bottom  of  the  carriage  gave*  way ; 
little  more,  and  the  noble  Kerver  family  would  have  sunk 
quite  out  of  sight.  The  wheelwrights  and  the  carpenters 
set  to  work  at  once  \  they  sawed  planks,  nailed  them  down 
fast,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  repaired  the  accident. 
The  coachman  cracked  his  whip,  and  the  horses  started, 
when  behold !  half  of  the  carriage  was  left  behind  ;  the  Bar- 
oness Kerver  sat  motionless  by  the  side  of  the  bride,  while 
Yvon  and  the  baron  were  carried  off  at  full  gallop.  Here 
was  a  new  difficulty.  Three  times  was  the  carriage  mended, 

D 


74  Fairy  Book. 

three  times  it  broke  anew.  There  was  every  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  it  was  enchanted. 

Every  one  had  a  word  of  advice  to  offer.  This  gave  the 
bailiff  courage.  He  approached  the  baron,  and  said,  in  a  low 
tone, 

"  My  lord,  in  the  house  that  you  see  shining  yonder  among 
the  trees,  there  lives  a  woman  who  does  things  such  as  no- 
body else  can  do.  Only  persuade  her  to  lend  you  her  door 
for  the  bottom  of  the  carriage,  and,  in  my  opinion,  it  will  hold 
till  morning." 

The  baron  made  a  sign,  and  twenty  peasants  ran  to  the 
cottage  of  Finette,  who  very  obligingly  lent  them  her  gold 
door.  They  put  it  in  the  bottom  of  the  carriage,  where  it  fit- 
ted as  if  it  had  been  made  expressly  for  it.  The  party  took 
their  seats  in  the  carriage,  the  coachman  cracked  his  whip, 
the  church  was  in  sight,  and  all  the  troubles  of  the  journey 
seemed  ended. 

Not  at  all !  Suddenly  the  horses  stopped,  and  refused  to 
draw.  There  were  four  of  them.  Six,  eight,  ten,  twenty-four 
more  were  put  to  the  carriage,  but  all  in  vain ;  it  was  impos- 
sible to  stir  them.  The  more  they  were  whipped,  the  deeper 
the  wheels  sunk  into  the  ground  like  the  coulter  of  a  plow. 

What  were  they  to  do  ?  To  go  on  foot  would  have  been  a 
disgrace.  To  mount  a  horse,  and  ride  to  the  church  like  sim- 
ple peasants,  was  not  the  custom  of  the  Kervers.  They  tried 
to  lift  the  carriage,  they  pushed  the  wheels,  they  shook  it,  they 
pulled  it,  but  all  in  vain.  Meanwhile  the  day  was  declining, 
and  the  hour  for  the  marriage  had  passed. 

Every  one  had  a  word  of  advice  to  offer.  This  gave  the 
seneschal  courage.  He  approached  the  baron,  alighted  from 
his  horse,  raised  his  velvet  cap,  and  said, 

"  My  lord,  in  the  house  that  you  see  shining  yonder  among 
the  trees,  there  lives  a  woman  who  does  things  such  as  nobody 


Yvon  and  Finette.  75 

else  can  do.  Only  persuade  her  to  lend  you  her  cow  to  draw 
the  carriage,  and,  in  my  opinion,  she  will  draw  it  till  morn- 
ing." 

The  baron  made  a  sign,  and  thirty  peasants  ran  to  the  cot- 
tage of  Finette,  who  very  obligingly  lent  them  her  golden- 
horned  cow. 

To  go  to  church  drawn  by  a  cow  was  not,  perhaps,  what  the 
ambitious  bride  had  dreamed  of,  but  it  was  better  than  to  re- 
main unmarried  in  the  road.  The  heifer  was  harnessed,  there- 
fore, before  the  four  horses,  and  every  body  looked  on  anx- 
iously to  see  what  this  boasted  animal  would  do. 

But,  before  the  coachman  had  time  to  crack  his  whip,  lo ! 
the  cow  started  off  as  if  she  were  about  to  go  around  the 
world  anew.  Horses,  carriage,  baron,  betrothed,  coachman, 
all  were  hurried  away  by  the  furious  animal.  In  vain  the 
knights  spurred  their  horses  to  follow  the  pair ;  in  vain  the 
peasants  ran  at  full  speed,  taking  the  cross-road  and  cutting 
across  the  meadows.  The  carriage  flew  as  if  it  had  wings ;  a 
pigeon  could  not  have  followed  it. 

On  reaching  the  door  of  the  church,  the  party,  a  little  dis- 
turbed by  this  rapid  journey,  would  not  have  been  sorry  to 
alight.  Every  thing  was  ready  for  the  ceremony,  and  the 
bridal  pair  had  long  been  expected  ;  but,  instead  of  stopping, 
the  cow  redoubled  her  speed.  Thirteen  times  she  ran  round 
the  church  like  lightning,  then  suddenly  made  her  way  in  a 
straight  line  across  the  fields  to  the  castle,  with  such  force  that 
the  whole  party  were  almost  shaken  to  pieces  before  their  ar- 
rival. 

VII. 

No  more  marriage  was  to  be  thought  of  for  that  day ;  but 
the  tables  were  set  and  the  dinner  served,  and  the  Baron 
Server  was  too  noble  a  knight  to  take  leave  of  his  brave 


76  Fairy  Book. 

Bretons  until  they  had  eaten  and  drank  according  to  custom 
— that  is,  from  sunset  till  sunrise,  and  even  a  little  later. 

Orders  were  given  for  the  guests  to  take  their  seats.  Nine- 
ty-six tables  were  ranged  in  eight  rows.  In  front  of  them,  on 
a  large  platform  covered  with  velvet,  with  a  canopy  in  the 
middle,  was  a  table  larger  than  the  rest,  and  loaded  with  fruit 
and  flowers,  to  say  nothing  of  the  roast  hares,  and  the  pea- 
cocks smoking  beneath  their  plumage.  At  this  table  the 
bridal  pair  were  to  have  been  seated  in  full  sight,  in  order 
that  nothing  might  be  lacking  to  the  pleasures  of  the  feast, 
and  that  the  meanest  peasant  might  have  the  honor  of  salut- 
ing them  by  emptying  his  cup  of  hydromel  to  the  honor  and 
prosperity  of  the  high  and  mighty  house  of  Kerver. 

The  baron  seated  the  hundred  knights  at  his  table,  and 
placed  their  squires  behind  their  chairs  to  serve  them.  At 
his  right  he  put  the  bride  and  Yvon,  but  he  left  the  seat  at  his 
left  vacant,  and,  calling  a  page,  "  Child,"  said  he,  "  run  to  the 
house  of  the  stranger  lady  who  obliged  us  only  too  much  this 
morning.  It  was  not  her  fault  if  her  success  exceeded  her 
good  will.  Tell  her  that  the  Baron  Kerver  thanks  her  for 
her  help,  and  invites  her  to  the  wedding  feast  of  his  son  Lord 
Yvon." 

On  reaching  the  golden  house,  where  Finette  in  tears  was 
mourning  for  her  beloved,  the  page  bent  one  knee  to  the 
ground,  and,  in  the  baron's  name,  invited  the  stranger  lady  to 
the  castle  to  do  honor  to  the  wedding  of  Lord  Yvon. 

"  Thank  your  master  for  me,"  answered  the  young  girl, 
proudly,  "  and  tell  him  that  if  he  is  too  noble  to  come  to  my 
house,  I  am  too  noble  to  go  to  his." 

When  the  page  repeated  this  answer  to  his  master,  the  Bar- 
on Kerver  struck  the  table  such  a  blow  that  three  plates  flew 
in  the  air. 

"  By  my  honor,"  said  he,  "  this  is  spoken  like  a  lady,  and, 


Yvon  and  Finette.  77 

for  the  first  time,  I  own  myself  beaten.  Quick,  saddle  my 
dun  mare,  and  let  my  knights  and  squires  prepare  to  attend 
me." 

It  was  with  this  brilliant  train  that  the  baron  alighted  at 
the  door  of  the  golden  cottage.  He  begged  Finette's  pardon, 
held  the  stirrup  for  her,  and  seated  her  behind  him  on  his 
own  horse,  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  duchess  in  person. 
Through  respect,  he  did  not  speak  a  single  word  to  her  on 
the  way.  On  reaching  the  castle,  he  uncovered  his  head,  and 
led  her  to  the  seat  of  honor  that  he  had  chosen  for  her. 

The  baron's  departure  had  made  a  great  excitement,  and 
his  return  caused  still  greater  surprise.  Every  one  asked  who 
the  lady  could  be  that  the  baron  treated  with  such  respect. 
Judging  from  her  costume,  she  was  a  foreigner ;  could  she  be 
the  Duchess  of  Normandy  or  the  Queen  of  France?  The 
steward,  the  bailiff,  and  the  seneschal  were  appealed  to.  The 
steward  trembled,  the  bailiff  turned  pale,  and  the  seneschal 
blushed,  but  all  three  were  as  mute  as  fishes.  The  silence  of 
these  important  personages  added  to  the  general  wonder. 

All  eyes  were  fixed  on  Finette,  who  felt  a  deadly  chill  at 
her  heart,  for  Yvon  saw,  but  did  not  know  her.  He  cast  an 
indifferent  glance  at  her,  then  began  again  to  talk  in  a  tender 
tone  to  the  fair -haired  lady,  who  smiled  disdainfully. 

Finette,  in  despair,  took  from  the  purse  the  golden  bullet, 
her  last  hope.  While  talking  with  the  baron,  who  was  charm- 
ed with  her  wit,  she  shook  the  little  ball  in  her  hand,  and  re- 
peated, in  a  whisper, 

"  Golden  bullet,  precious  treasure, 
Save  me,  if  it  be  thy  pleasure." 

And  behold,  the  bullet  grew  larger  and  larger,  until  it  became 
a  goblet  of  chased  gold,  the  most  beautiful  cup  that  ever 
graced  the  table  of  baron  or  king. 

Finette  filled  the  cup  herself  with  spiced  wine,  and,  calling 


7  8  Fairy  Book. 

the  seneschal,  who  was  cowering  behind  her,  she  said,  in  her 
gentlest  tones, "  My  good  seneschal,  I  entreat  you  to  offer  this 
goblet  to  Lord  Yvon.  I  wish  to  drink  his  health,  and  I  am 
sure  that  he  will  not  refuse  me  this  pleasure." 

Yvon  took  the  goblet,  which  the  seneschal  presented  to  him 
on  a  salver  of  enamel  and  gold,  with  a  careless  hand,  bowed 
to  the  stranger,  drank  the  wine,  and,  setting  the  cup  on  the 
table  before  him,  turned  to  the  fair-haired  lady  who  occu- 
pied all  his  thoughts.  The  lady  seemed  anxious  and  vexed. 
He  whispered  a  few  words  in  her  ear  that  seemed  to  please 
her,  for  her  eyes  sparkled,  and  she  placed  her  hand  again  in 
his. 

Finette  cast  down  her  head  and  began  to  weep.  All  was 
over. 

"  Children,"  cried  the  baron,  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  "  fill 
your  glasses.  Let  us  all  drink  to  the  noble  stranger  who 
honors  us  with  her  presence.  To  the  noble  lady  of  the  gold- 
en cottage !" 

All  began  to  huzzah  and  drink.  Yvon  contented  himself 
with  raising  his  goblet  to  a  level  with  his  eyes.  Suddenly  he 
started  and  stood  mute,  his  mouth  open  and  his  eyes  fixed, 
like  a  man  that  has  a  vision. 

It  was  a  vision.  In  the  gold  of  the  goblet  Yvon  saw  his 
past  life  as  in  a  mirror:  the  giant  pursuing  him;  Finette 
dragging  him  along ;  both  embarking  in  the  ship  that  saved 
them ;  both  landing  on  the  shore  of  Brittany ;  he  quitting  her 
for  an  instant ;  she  weeping  at  his  departure.  Where  was 
she  ?  By  his  side,  of  course.  What  other  woman  than  Finette 
could  be  by  the  side  of  Yvon  ? 

He  turned  toward  the  fair-haired  lady,  and  cried  out  like  a 
man  treading  on  a  serpent.  Then,  staggering  as  if  he  were 
drunk,  he  rose  and  looked  around  him  with  haggard  eyes. 
At  the  sight  of  Finette  he  clasped  his  trembling  hands,  and, 


Yvon  and  Finette. 


79 


dragging  himself  toward  her,  fell  on  his  knees  and  exclaimed, 
"  Finette,  forgive  me  !" 

To  forgive  is  the  height  of  happiness.  Before  evening, 
Finette  was  seated  by  the  side  of  Yvon,  both  weeping  and 
smiling. 

And  what  became  of  the  fair-haired  lady  ?  No  one  knows. 
At  the  cry  of  Yvon  she  disappeared  j  but  it  was  said  that  a 
wretched  old  hag  was  seen  flying  on  a  broomstick  over  the 


castle  walls,  chased  by  the  dogs  ;  and  it  was  the  common 
opinion  among  the  Kervers  that  the  fair-haired  lady  was  none 
other  than  the  witch,  the  godmother  of  the  giant.  I  am  not 


8o  Fairy  Book. 

sure  enough  of  the  fact,  however,  to  dare  warrant  it.  It  is  al- 
ways prudent  to  believe,  without  proof,  that  a  woman  may  be 
a  witch,  but  it  is  never  wise  to  say  so. 

What  I  can  say  on  the  word  of  an  historian  is  that  the  feast, 
interrupted  for  a  moment,  went  on  gayer  than  ever.  Early 
the  next  morning  they  went  to  the  church,  where,  to  the  joy 
of  his  heart,  Yvon  married  Finette,  who  was  no  longer  afraid 
of  evil  spirits  ;  after  which  they  ate,  drank,  and  danced  for 
thirty-six  hours,  without  any  one  thinking  of  resting.  The 
steward's  arms  were  a  little  heavy,  the  bailiff  rubbed  his  back 
at  times,  and  the  seneschal  felt  a  sort  of  weariness  in  his 
limbs,  but  all  three  had  a  weight  on  their  conscience  which 
they  could  not  shake  off,  and  which  made  them  tremble  and 
flutter,  till  finally  they  fell  on  the  ground  and  were  carried 
off.  Finette  took  no  other  vengeance  on  them  ;  her  only  de- 
sire was  to  render  all  happy  around  her,  far  and  near,  who 
belonged  to  the  noble  house  of  Kerver.  Her  memory  still 
lives  in  Brittany  ;  and,  among  the  ruins  of  the  old  castle,  any 
one  will  show  you  the  statue  of  the  good  lady,  with  five  bullets 
in  her  hand. 


THE   CASTLE    OF  LIFE. 

I. 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  lived  at  Salerno  a  poor  old  wom- 
an, who  earned  her  bread  by  fishing,  and  whose  only  comfort 
and  stay  in  life  was  her  grandson,  a  boy  twelve  years  of  age, 
whose  father  had  been  drowned  in  a  storm,  and  whose  mother 
had  died  of  grief.  Graceful,  for  this  was  the  child's  name, 
loved  nobody  in  the  world  but  his  grandmother  •  he  followed 
her  to  the  shore  every  morning  before  daybreak  to  pick  up 
the  shell-fish  or  draw  the  net  to  the  beach,  longing  for  the 
time  when  he  should  be  strong  enough  to  go  to  sea  himself, 
and  brave  the  waves  that  had  swallowed  up  all  his  kindred. 
He  was  so  handsome,  so  well-made,  and  so  promising,  that 
no  sooner  had  he  entered  the  town  with  his  basket  of  fish  on 
his  head  than  every  one  ran  after  him,  and  he  sold  the  whole 
before  he  reached  the  market. 

Unfortunately,  the  grandmother  was  very  old ;  she  had  but 
one  front  tooth  left,  her  head  shook  with  age,  and  her  eyes 
were  dim.  Every  morning  she  found  it  harder  to  rise  than 
the  day  before.  Feeling  that  she  had  but  a  few  days  longer 
to  live,  at  night,  before  Graceful  wrapped  himself  in  his  blank- 
et and  lay  down  on  the  ground  to  sleep,  she  always  gave  him 
good  counsels  for  him  to  follow  when  she  was  gone  j  she  told 
him  what  fishermen  to  avoid,  and  how,  by  being  good  and  in- 
dustrious, prudent  and  resolute,  he  would  make  his  way  in  the 
world;  and  finally  have  a  boat  and  nets  of  his  own.  The 
poor  boy  paid  little  heed  to  all  this  wisdom.  As  soon  as  his 
grandmother  began  to  put  on  a  grave  air,  he  threw  his  arms 

D  2 


82  Fairy  Book. 

around  her  neck,  and  cried,  "  Grandmamma,  grandmamma, 
don't  leave  me.  I  have  hands,  I  am  strong,  I  shall  soon  be 
able  to  work  for  us  both ;  but  if  you  were  not  here  at  night 
when  I  came  home  from  fishing,  what  would  become  of  me  ?" 

"  My  child,"  said  the  old  woman  one  day  to  him, "  I  shall 
not  leave  you  so  much  alone  as  you  think ;  when  I  am  gone 
you  will  have  two  powerful  protectors,  whom  more  than  one 
prince  might  envy  you.  A  long  time  ago  I  did  a  favor  to 
two  great  ladies,  who  will  not  forget  you  when  the  time  comes 
to  call  them,  which  will  be  very  soon." 

"  Who  are  these  two  ladies  ?"  asked  Graceful,  who  had 
never  seen  any  women  but  fishermen's  wives  in  the  hut. 

"They  are  two  fairies,"  replied  his  grandmother — "two 
powerful  fairies — the  Fairy  of  the  Woods  and  the  Fairy  of  the 
Waters.  Listen  to  me,  my  child  ;  I  am  going  to  intrust  you 
with  a  secret — a  secret  which  you  must  keep  as  carefully  as 
I  have  done,  and  which  will  give  you  wealth  and  happiness. 
Ten  years  ago,  the  same  year  that  your  father  died  and  your 
mother  also  left  us,  I  went  out  one  morning  before  daybreak 
to  surprise  the  crabs  asleep  in  the  sand.  As  I  was  stooping 
down,  hidden  by  a  rock,  I  saw  a  kingfisher  slowly  floating  to- 
ward the  beach.  The  kingfisher  is  a  sacred  bird,  which  should 
always  be  respected ;  knowing  this,  I  let  it  alight,  and  did  not 
stir  for  fear  of  frightening  it.  At  the  same  moment  I  saw  a 
beautiful  green  adder  come  from  a  cleft  of  the  mountain  and 
crawl  along  the  sand  toward  the  bird.  When  they  were  near 
each  other,  without  either  seeming  surprised  at  the  meeting, 
the  adder  coiled  itself  around  the  neck  of  the  kingfisher,  as  if 
tenderly  embracing  it ;  they  remained  thus  entwined  for  a  few 
moments,  after  which  they  suddenly  separated,  the  adder  to 
return  to  the  rock,  and  the  kingfisher  to  plunge  into  the  waves 
which  bore  it  away. 

"  Greatly  astonished  at  what  I  had  seen,  I  returned  the 


The  Castle  of  Life.  83 

next  morning  at  the  same  hour,  and  at  the  same  hour  the 
kingfisher  also  alighted  on  the  sands  and  the  adder  came 
from  its  retreat.  There  was  no  doubt  that  they  were  fairies, 
perhaps  enchanted  fairies,  to  whom  I  could  render  a  service. 
But  what  was  I  to  do  ?  To  show  myself  would  have  been 
to  displease  them  and  run  into  danger ;  it  was  better  to 
wait  for  a  favorable  opportunity  which  chance  would  doubt- 
less offer.  For  a  whole  month  I  lay  in  ambush,  witnessing 
the  same  spectacle  every  morning,  when  one  day  I  saw  a 
huge  black  cat  arrive  first  at  the  place  of  meeting  and  hide 
itself  behind  a  rock,  almost  under  my  hand.  A  black  cat 
could  be  nothing  else  than  an  enchanter,  according  to  what 
I  had  learned  in  my  childhood,  and  I  resolved  to  watch  him. 
Scarcely  had  the  kingfisher  and  the  adder  embraced  each 
other,  when  behold !  the  cat  gathered  itself  up  and  sprang 
upon  these  innocents.  It  was  my  turn  to  throw  myself  upon 
the  wretch,  who  already  held  his  victims  in  his  murderous 
claws ;  I  seized  him  despite  his  struggles,  although  he  tore 
my  hands  in  pieces,  and  without  pity,  knowing  with  whom  I 
had  to  deal,  I  took  the  knife  which  I  used  to  open  shell-fish, 
and  cut  off  the  monster's  head,  claws,  and  tail,  confidently 
awaiting  the  success  of  my  devotion. 

"  I  did  not  wait  long ;  no  sooner  had  I  thrown  the  body  of 
the  animal  into  the  sea  than  I  saw  before  me  two  beautiful 
ladies,  one  crowned  with  white  plumes,  the  other  with  a  ser- 
pent's skin  thrown  like  a  scarf  across  her  shoulder.  They 
were,  as  I  have  already  told  you,  the  Fairy  of  the  Waters  and 
the  Fairy  of  the  Woods,  who,  enchanted  by  a  wretched  genie 
who  had  learned  their  secret,  had  been  forced  to  remain  a 
kingfisher  and  an  adder  until  freed  by  some  generous  hand, 
and  who  owed  me  their  power  and  freedom. 

"'Ask  of  us  what  you  will,'  said  they,  'and  your  request 
shall  be  instantly  granted.' 


84 


Fairy  Book. 


"  I  reflected  that  I  was  old,  and  had  suffered  too  much  in 
life  to  wish  to  begin  it  anew,  while  the  day  would  come,  my 
child,  when  nothing  would  be  too  great  for  your  desires  ;  when 
you  would  wish  to  be  rich,  noble — a  general,  a  marquis,  a 
prince,  perhaps  !  When  that  day  comes,  thought  I,  I  can 


The  Castle  of  Life.  85 

give  him  every  thing ;  and  a  single  moment  of  such  happiness 
will  repay  me  for  eighty  years  of  pain  and  misery.  I  thanked 
the  fairies,  therefore,  and  entreated  them  to  keep  their  good 
will  till  the  day  when  I  should  have  need  of  it.  The  Fairy 
of  the  Waters  took  a  small  feather  from  her  crown,  and  the 
Fairy  of  the  Woods  detached  a  scale  from  her  scarf. 

"  '  My  good  woman,'  said  they, '  when  you  wish  for  us,  place 
this  feather  and  this  scale  in  a  vessel  of  pure  water  and  call 
on  us,  making  a  wish.  Should  we  be  at  the  end  of  the  world, 
we  will  be  at  your  side  in  an  instant,  ready  to  pay  the  debt  we 
owe  you.' 

"  I  bowed  my  head  in  token  of  gratitude.  When  I  raised 
it  all  had  vanished ;  even  the  wounds  and  blood  had  disap- 
peared from  my  hands,  and  I  should  have  thought  that  I  had 
been  dreaming  had  not  the  scale  of  the  serpent  and  the  feath- 
er of  the  kingfisher  remained  in  my  hand." 

"And  where  are  these  treasures,  grandmamma  ?"  asked 
Graceful. 

"  My  child,  I  have  carefully  concealed  them,"  answered  the 
old  woman,  "  not  wishing  to  show  them  to  you  till  you  were  a 
man,  and  able  to  make  use  of  them  ;  but,  since  death  is  about 
to  separate  us,  the  moment  has  come  to  give  you  these  pre- 
cious talismans.  You  will  find  at  the  back  of  the  cupboard 
a  wooden  chest  hidden  under  some  rags ;  in  the  chest  is  a 
little  pasteboard  box,  wound  about  with  tow ;  open  this  box, 
and  you  will  find  the  scale  and  the  feather  carefully  wrapped 
in  cotton.  Take  care  not  to  break  them ;  handle  them  re- 
spectfully, and  I  will  tell  you  what  next  to  do." 

Graceful  brought  the  box  to  the  poor  woman,  who  was  no 
longer  able  to  quit  her  pallet,  and  she  herself  took  from  it 
the  two  articles. 

"  Now,"  said  she,  giving  them  to  her  grandson,  "  put  a 
bowl  full  of  water  in  the  middle  of  the  room ;  place  the  scale 


86  Fairy  Book. 

and  the  feather  in  the  water,  and  make  a  wish — wish  for  for- 
tune, nobility,  wit,  power,  whatever  you  please  ;  only,  as  I  feel 
that  I  am  dying,  kiss  me  once  more,  my  child,  before  speak- 
ing the  words  that  will  separate  us  forever,  and  receive  my  last 
blessing ;  it  will  be  another  talisman  to  bring  you  happiness." 

But,  to  the  old  woman's  surprise,  Graceful  did  not  come 
near  her,  either  to  kiss  her  or  to  receive  her  blessing.  He 
quickly  placed  the  bowl  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  threw  the 
feather  and  scale  into  the  water,  and  shouted  at  the  top  of 
his  voice,  "  Appear,  Fairy  of  the  Waters !  I  wish  that  my 
grandmother  may  live  forever.  Appear,  Fairy  of  the  Woods ! 
I  wish  that  my  grandmother  may  live  forever." 

And  behold  !  the  water  bubbled,  bubbled,  bubbled ;  the 
bowl  grew  to  a  great  basin,  which  the  walls  of  the  hut  could 
scarcely  hold,  and  from  the  bottom  of  the  basin  Graceful  saw 
two  beautiful  young  women  rise,  whom  he  knew  directly  from 
their  wands  to  be  fairies.  One  wore  a  crown  of  holly  leaves 
mixed  with  red  berries,  and  diamond  ear-rings  resembling 
acorns  in  their  cups ;  she  was  dressed  in  a  robe  of  olive- 
green,  over  which  a  speckled  skin  was  knotted  like  a  scarf 
across  the  right  shoulder — this  was  the  Fairy  of  the  Woods. 
As  to  the  Fairy  of  the  Waters,  she  wore  a  garland  of  reeds 
on  her  head,  with  a  white  robe  trimmed  with  the  feathers  of 
aquatic  birds,  and  a  blue  scarf,  which  now  and  then  rose 
above  her  head,  and  fluttered  like  the  sail  of  a  ship.  Great 
ladies  as  they  were,  they  looked  smilingly  at  Graceful,  who 
had  taken  refuge  in  his  grandmother's  arms,  and  trembled 
with  fear  and  admiration. 

"  Here  we  are,  my  child,"  said  the  Fairy  of  the  Waters, 
who  spoke  first,  as  the  eldest.  "  We  have  heard  what  you 
said,  and  your  wish  does  you  honor ;  but,  though  we  can  help 
you  in  the  plan  which  you  have  conceived,  you  alone  can  ex- 
ecute it.  We  can,  indeed,  prolong  your  grandmother's  life 


The  Castle  of  Life.  87 

for  some  time,  but,  for  her  to  live  forever,  you  must  go  to 
the  Castle  of  Life,  four  long  days'  journey  from  here,  on  the 
coast  of  Sicily.  There  you  will  find  the  Fountain  of  Immor- 
tality. If  you  can  accomplish  each  of  these  four  days'  jour- 
ney without  turning  aside  from  the  road,  and,  on  reaching  the 
castle,  can  answer  three  questions  that  will  be  put  to  you  by 
an  invisible  voice,  you  will  obtain  what  you  desire.  But,  my 
child,  reflect  well  before  undertaking  this  adventure,  for  you 
will  meet  more  than  one  danger  on  the  way  \  and  if  you  fail 
a  single  time  to  reach  the  end  of  your  day's  journey,  you  will 
not  only  miss  the  object  of  your  pursuit,  but  you  will  never 
quit  the  country,  from  which  none  has  ever  returned." 

"  I  will  go,  madam,"  returned  Graceful. 

"  But  you  are  very  young,  my  child,"  said  the  Fairy  of  the 
Woods,  "  and  you  do  not  even  know  the  way." 

"  No  matter,"  replied  Graceful ;  "  I  am  sure,  beautiful  la- 
dies, that  you  will  not  forsake  me,  and  to  save  my  grand- 
mother I  would  go  to  the  end  of  the  world." 

"  Wait,"  said  the  Fairy  of  the  Woods.  Then,  separating 
the  lead  from  a  broken  window-pane,  she  placed  it  in  the  hol- 
low of  her  hand. 

And  behold !  the  lead  began  to  melt  and  bubble  without 
seeming  to  burn  the  fairy,  who  threw  the  metal  on  the  hearth, 
where  it  cooled  in  a  thousand  different  forms. 

"  What  do  you  see  in  all  that  ?"  said  the  fairy  to  Graceful. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  madam,"  said  he,  after  looking  attentive- 
ly, "  that  I  see  a  spaniel,  with  a  long  tail  and  large  ears." 

"  Call  him,"  said  the  fairy. 

A  barking  was  instantly  heard,  and  forth  from  the  metal 
sprang  a  black  and  flame -colored  spaniel,  which  began  to 
gambol  and  leap  around  Graceful. 

"  This  will  be  your  companion,"  said  the  fairy.  "  His  name 
is  Fido.  He  will  show  you  the  way ;  but  I  warn  you  that  it 


88  Fairy  Book. 

is  for  you  to  direct  him,  and  not  for  him  to  lead  you.  If  you 
make  him  obey,  he  will  serve  you ;  if  you  obey  him,  he  will 
destroy  you." 

"And  I,"  said  the  Fairy  of  the  Waters,  "have  I  nothing  to 
give  you,  my  poor  Graceful  ?" 

Then,  looking  around  her,  the  lady  saw  on  the  ground  a 
bit  of  paper,  which  she  tossed  into  the  fire  with  her  tiny  foot. 
The  paper  caught  fire,  and  as  soon  as  the  blaze  had  died 
away,  thousands  of  little  sparks  were  seen  chasing  each  other 
about.  The  fairy  watched  these  sparks  with  a  curious  eye ; 
then,  as  the  last  one  was  about  to  go  out,  she  blew  upon  the 
cinders,  when,  lo !  the  chirp  of  a  bird  was  heard,  and  a  swal- 
low rose,  which  fluttered,  terrified,  about  the  room,  and  final- 
ly alighted  on  Graceful's  shoulder. 

"  This  will  be  your  companion,"  said  the  Fairy  of  the  Wa- 
ters. "Her  name  is  Pensive;  she  will  show  you  the  way; 
but  I  warn  you  that  it  is  for  you  to  direct  her,  and  not  for  her 
to  lead  you.  If  you  make  her  obey,  she  will  serve  you ;  if  you 
obey  her,  she  will  destroy  you." 

"  Stir  the  black  ashes,"  added  the  good  Fairy  of  the  Wa- 
ters, "  and  perhaps  you  will  find  something  there." 

Graceful  obeyed.  Under  the  ashes  of  the  paper  he  found 
a  vial  of  rock  crystal,  sparkling  like  a  diamond.  This,  the 
fairy  said,  was  to  hold  the  water  of  immortality,  which  would 
break  any  vessel  made  by  the  hand  of  man.  By  the  side  of 
the  vial  Graceful  found  a  dagger  with  a  triangular  blade — a 
very  different  thing  from  the  stiletto  of  his  father  the  fisher- 
man, which  he  had  been  forbidden  to  touch.  With  this  v*eap- 
on  he  could  brave  the  proudest  enemy. 

"  My  sister,  you  shall  not  be  more  generous  than  I,"  said 
the  other  fairy ;  then,  taking  a  rush  from  the  only  chair  in  the 
room,  she  blew  upon  it,  when,  lo  !  the  rush  instantly  swelled, 
and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it  became  a  beautiful 


The  Castle  of  Life.  89 

musket,  inlaid  with  mother-of-pearl.  A  second  rush  produced 
a  cartridge-box,  which  Graceful  slung  around  his  body,  and 
which  became  him  marvelously.  One  would  have  thought 
him  a  prince  setting  out  for  the  chase ;  he  was  so  handsome 
that  his  grandmother  wept  for  joy  and  emotion. 

The  two  fairies  vanished;  Graceful  kissed  the  good  old 
woman,  urging  her  to  await  his  return,  and  knelt  before  her 
to  receive  her  blessing.  She  entreated  him  to  be  patient, 
just,  and  charitable,  and,  above  all,  not  to  wander  from  the 
right  path.  "  Not  for  my  sake,"  added  the  old  woman,  "  for 
I  would  gladly  welcome  death,  and  I  regret  the  wish  that  you 
have  made,  but  for  your  own,  my  child,  that  you  may  return 
to  me,  and  that  I  may  not  die  without  your  being  here  to 
close  my  eyes." 

It  was  late.  Graceful  threw  himself  on  the  ground,  too 
agitated,  it  seemed,  to  sleep.  But  slumber  soon  overtook 
him,  and  he  slept  soundly  all  night,  while  his  poor  grand- 
mother watched  the  face  of  her  dear  child  lighted  by  the  flick- 
ering lamp,  and  did  not  weary  of  mournfully  admiring  him. 


II. 

EARLY  in  the  morning,  when  dawn  was  scarcely  breaking, 
the  swallow  began  to  twitter,  and  Fido  to  pull  the  blankets. 
"  Let  us  go,  master — let  us  go,"  said  the  two  companions, 
in  their  language,  which  Graceful  understood  by  the  gift  of 
the  fairies  ;  "  the  tide  is  already  rising  on  the  beach,  the  birds 
are  singing,  the  flies  are  humming,  and  the  flowers  are  open- 
ing in  the  sun ;  let  us  go  ;  it  is  time." 

Graceful  kissed  his  grandmother  for  the  last  time,  and  took 
the  road  to  Paestum,  Pensive  fluttering  to  the  right  and  the 
left  in  pursuit  of  the  flies,  and  Fido  fawning  on  his  young 
master  or  running  before  him. 


90  Fairy  Book. 

They  had  not  gone  two  leagues  from  the  town  when  Grace- 
ful saw  Fido  talking  with  the  ants,  who  were  marching  in 
regular  troops,  carrying  all  their  provisions  with  them. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  he. 

"To  the  Castle  of  Life,"  they  answered. 

A  little  farther  on  Pensive  encountered  the  grasshopper^ 
who  had  also  set  out  on  a  journey,  together  with  the  bees  and 
the  butterflies ;  all  were  going  to  the  Castle  of  Life,  to  drinli 
of  the  Fountain  of  Immortality.  They  traveled  in  company, 
like  people  following  the  same  road.  Pensive  introduced 
Graceful  to  a  young  butterfly,  that  chatted  agreeably.  Friend- 
ship springs  up  quickly  in  youth ;  in  an  hour  the  two  com- 
rades were  inseparable. 

To  go  straight  forward  does  not  suit  the  taste  of  butterflies, 
and  Graceful's  friend  was  constantly  losing  himself  among 
the  grass.  Graceful,  who  had  never  been  free  in  his  life,  nor 
had  seen  so  many  flowers  and  so  much  sunshine,  followed  all 
the  windings  of  his  companion,  and  troubled  himself  no  more 
about  the  day  than  if  it  were  never  to  end ;  but,  after  a  few 
leagues'  journey,  his  new  friend  began  to  be  weary. 

"Don't  go  any  farther,"  said  he  to  Graceful;  "see  how 
beautiful  is  this  landscape,  how  fragrant  these  flowers,  and 
how  balmy  these  fields.  Let  us  stay  here ;  this  is  life." 

"  Let  us  go  on,"  said  Fido ;  "  the  day  is  long,  and  we  are 
only  at  the  beginning." 

"  Let  us  go  on,"  said  Pensive ;  "  the  sky  is  clear,  and  the 
horizon  unbounded.  Let  us  go  on." 

Graceful,  restored  to  his  senses,  reasoned  sagely  with  the 
butterfly,  who  fluttered  constantly  to  the  right  and  the  left, 
but  all  in  vain.  "  What  matters  it  to  me  ?"  said  the  insect ; 
"yesterday  I  was  a  caterpillar,  to-night  I  shall  be  nothing. 
I  will  enjoy  to-day."  And  he  settled  on  a  full-blown  Paestum 
rose.  The  perfume  was  so  strong  that  the  poor  butterfly  was 


The  Castle  of  Life.  91 

suffocated.  Graceful  vainly  endeavored  to  recall  him  to  life  ; 
then,  bemoaning  his  fate,  he  fastened  him  with  a  pin  to  his 
hat  like  a  cockade. 

Toward  noon  the  grasshoppers  stopped  in  turn.  "  Let  us 
rest,"  said  they ;  "  the  heat  will  overpower  us  if  we  struggle 
against  the  noonday  sun.  It  is  so  pleasant  to  live  in  sweet 
repose !  Come,  Graceful,  we  will  divert  you,  and  you  shall 
sing  with  us." 

"  Listen  to  them,"  said  Pensive ;  "  they  sing  so  sweetly !" 
But  Fido  would  not  stop ;  his  blood  seemed  on  fire,  and  he 
barked  so  furiously  that  Graceful  forgot  the  grasshoppers  to 
follow  his  importunate  companion. 

At  evening  Graceful  met  the  honey-bee  loaded  with  booty. 
"  Where  are  you  going  ?"  said  he. 

"  I  am  returning  home,"  said  the  bee ;  "  I  shall  not  quit  my 
hive." 

"What!"  rejoined  Graceful;  "industrious  as  you  are, will 
you  do  like  the  grasshoppers  and  renounce  your  share  in  im- 
mortality ?" 

"  Your  castle  is  too  far  off,"  returned  the  bee.  "  I  have  not 
your  ambition.  My  daily  labor  suffices  for  me ;  I  care  noth- 
ing for  your  travels  ;  to  me  work  is  life." 

Graceful  was  a  little  moved  at  losing  so  many  of  his  fellow- 
travelers  on  the  first  day ;  but  when  he  thought  with  what 
ease  he  had  accomplished  the  first  day's  journey,  his  heart 
was  filled  with  joy.  He  caressed  Fido,  caught  the  flies  which 
Pensive  took  from  his  hand,  and  slept  full  of  hope,  dreaming 
of  his  grandmother  and  the  two  fairies. 


III. 

THE  next  morning,  at  daybreak,  Pensive  called  his  young 
master. 


92  Fairy  Book. 

"  Let  us  go,"  said  he  ;  "  the  tide  is  already  rising  on  the 
shore,  the  birds  are  singing,  the  bees  are  humming,  and  the 
flowers  are  opening  in  the  sun ;  let  us  go  ;  it  is  time." 

"Wait  a  moment,"  said  Fido.  "The  day's  journey  is  not 
long ;  before  noon  we  shall  be  in  sight  of  the  temples  of 
Psestum,  where  we  are  to  stop  for  the  night." 

"  The  ants  are  already  on  the  way,"  returned  Pensive  ;  "  the 
road  is  harder  than  yesterday,  and  the  weather  more  uncer- 
tain ;  let  us  go." 

Graceful  had  seen  his  grandmother  smiling  on  him  in  his 
dreams,  and  he  set  out  on  his  way  with  even  greater  ardor 
than  the  day  before.  The  morning  was  glorious ;  on  the 
right  the  blue  waves  broke  with  a  gentle  murmur  on  the 
strand ;  on  the  left,  in  the  distance,  the  mountains  were  tinged 
with  a  roseate  hue  ;  the  plain  was  covered  with  tall  grass 
sprinkled  with  flowers  ;  the  road  was  lined  with  aloes,  jujubes, 
and  acanthuses,  and  before  them  lay  a  cloudless  horizon. 
Graceful,  ravished  with  hope  and  pleasure,  fancied  himself 
already  at  the  end  of  his  journey.  Fido  bounded  over  the 
fields  and  chased  the  frightened  partridges ;  Pensive  soared 
in  the  air  and  sported  with  the  light.  All  at  once  Graceful 
saw  a  beautiful  doe  in  the  midst  of  the  reeds,  looking  at  him 
with  languishing  eyes  as  if  she  were  calling  him.  He  went  to- 
ward her ;  she  bounded  forward,  but  only  a  little  way.  Three 
times  she  repeated  the  same  trick,  as  if  to  allure  him  on. 

"  Let  us  follow  her,"  said  Fido ;  "  I  will  cut  off  the  way, 
and  we  will  soon  catch  her." 

"Where  is  Pensive?"  said  Graceful. 

"  What  does  it  matter  ?"  replied  Fido ;  "  it  is  the  work  of 
an  instant.  Trust  to  me — I  was  born  for  the  chase — and  the 
doe  is  ours." 

Graceful  did  not  let  himself  be  bid  twice.  While  Fido 
made  a  circuit,  he  ran  after  the  doe,  which  paused  among  the 


The  Castle  of  Life.  93 

trees  as  if  to  suffer  herself  to  be  caught,  then  bounded  for- 
ward as  soon  as  the  hand  of  the  pursuer  touched  her.  "Cour- 
age, master !"  cried  Fido,  as  he  came  upon  her.  But,  with  a 
toss  of  the  head,  the  doe  flung  the  dog  in  the  air,  and  fled 
swifter  than  the  wind. 

Graceful  sprung  forward  in  pursuit.  Fido,  with  burning 
eyes  and  distended  jaws,  ran  and  yelped  as  if  he  were  mad. 
They  crossed  ditches,  brakes,  and  hedges,  unchecked  by  noth- 
ing. The  wearied  doe  lost  ground.  Graceful  redoubled  his 
ardor,  and  was  already  stretching  out  his  hand  to  seize  his 
prey,  when  all  at  once  the  ground  gave  way  beneath  his  feet, 
and  he  fell,  with  his  imprudent  companion,  into  a  pit  covered 
over  with  leaves.  He  had  not  recovered  from  his  fall  when 
the  doe,  approaching  the  brink,  cried, "  You  are  betrayed ;  I 
am  the  wife  of  the  King  of  the  Wolves,  who  is  coming  to  eat 
you  both."  Saying  this,  she  disappeared. 

"  Alas  !  master,"  said  Fido,  "  the  fairy  was  right  in  advising 
you  not  to  follow  me.  We  have  acted  foolishly,  and  I  have 
destroyed  you." 

"  At  all  events,"  said  Graceful,  "  we  will  defend  our  lives ;" 
and,  taking  his  musket,  he  double-loaded  it,  in  readiness  for 
the  King  of  the  Wolves  ;  then,  somewhat  calmed,  he  examined 
the  deep  ditch  into  which  he  had  fallen.  It  was  too  high  for 
him  to  escape  from  it ;  in  this  hole  he  must  await  his  death. 
Fido  understood  the  look  of  his  friend. 

"  Master,"  said  he,  "if  you  take  me  in  your  arms  and  throw 
me  with  all  your  might,  perhaps  I  can  reach  the  top ;  and, 
once  there,  I  can  help  you." 

Graceful  had  not  much  hope.  Three  times  he  endeavored 
to  throw  Fido,  and  three  times  the  poor  animal  fell  back; 
finally,  at  the  fourth  effort,  he  caught  hold  of  some  roots,  and 
aided  himself  so  well  with  his  teeth  and  paws  that  he  escaped 
from  the  tomb.  He  instantly  threw  into  the  ditch  the  boughs 
which  he  found  about  the  edge. 


94  Fairy  Book. 

"  Master,"  said  he,  "  plant  these  branches  in  the  earth,  and 
make  yourself  a  ladder.  Quick !  quick !"  he  added  j  "  I  hear 
the  howls  of  the  King  of  the  Wolves." 

Graceful  was  adroit  and  agile.  Anger  redoubled  his 
strength ;  in  a  moment  he  was  outside.  Then  he  secured 
his  dagger  in  his  belt,  changed  the  powder  in  the  pan  of  his 
musket,  and,  placing  himself  behind  a  tree,  awaited  the  ene- 
my with  firmness. 

Suddenly  a  frightful  cry  was  heard,  and  an  animal,  with 
tusks  like  those  of  the  wild  boar,  rushed  on  him  with  pro- 
digious bounds.  Graceful  took  aim  and  fired.  The  bullet 
hit  the  mark,  and  the  animal  fell  back  howling,  but  instantly 
sprang  forward  anew.  "  Load  your  musket  again !  make 
haste  !"  cried  Fido,  springing  courageously  in  the  face  of  the 
monster,  and  seizing  his  throat  with  his  teeth. 

The  wolf  had  only  to  shake  his  head  to  fling  the  poor  dog 
to  the  ground.  He  would  have  swallowed  him  at  one  mouth- 
ful had  not  Fido  glided  from  his  jaws,  leaving  one  of  his  ears 
behind.  It  was  Graceful's  turn  to  save  his  companion ;  he 
boldly  advanced  and  fired  his  second  shot,  taking  aim  at  the 
shoulder.  The  wolf  fell ;  but,  rising,  with  a  last  effort  he  threw 
himself  on  the  hunter,  who  fell  under  him.  On  receiving  this 
terrible  shock,  Graceful  thought  himself  lost ;  but,  without  los- 
ing courage,  and  calling  the  good  fairies  to  his  aid,  he  seized 
his  dagger,  and  thrust  it  into  the  heart  of  the  animal,  which, 
ready  to  devour  his  enemy,  straightened  his  limbs  and  died. 

Graceful  rose,  covered  with  blood  and  froth,  and  seated 
himself,  trembling,  upon  a  fallen  tree.  Fido  crept  painfully 
to  his  feet,  without  daring  to  caress  him,  for  he  felt  how  much 
he  was  to  blame. 

"  Master,"  said  he,  "  what  will  become  of  us  ?  Night  is  ap- 
proaching, and  we  are  so  far  from  Paestum !" 

"  We  must  go,"  said  the  child ;  and  he  rose ;  but  he  was  so 


The  Castle  of  Life.  95 

weak  that  he  was  obliged  to  sit  down  again.  A  burning 
thirst  devoured  him  ;  he  was  feverish,  and  every  thing  whirled 
before  his  eyes.  He  thought  of  his  grandmother,  and  began 
to  weep.  What  was  poor  Graceful's  remorse  for  having  so 
soon  forgotten  such  fair  promises,  and  condemned  himself  to 
die  in  a  country  from  which  there  was  no  return,  and  all  this 
for  the  bright  eyes  of  a  doe !  How  sadly  ended  the  day  so 
well  begun ! 

Sinister  howls  were  soon  heard ;  the  brothers  of  the  King 
of  the  Wolves  were  calling  him  and  coming  to  his  aid.  Grace- 
ful embraced  Fido,  his  only  friend,  and  forgave  him  the  im- 
prudence for  which  they  were  both  about  to  pay  with  their 
lives ;  then  loaded  his  musket,  offered  up  a  prayer  to  the 
good  fairies,  commended  his  grandmother  to  them,  and  pre- 
pared to  die. 

"  Graceful !  Graceful !  where  are  you  ?"  cried  a  little  voice 
that  could  be  none  other  than  Pensive's,  and  the  swallow 
alighted  on  the  head  of  his  master. 

"  Courage !"  said  she ;  "  the  wolves  are  still  far  off.  There 
is  a  spring  close  by  where  you  can  quench  your  thirst  and 
stanch  your  bleeding  wounds,  and  I  have  found  a  hidden  path 
which  will  lead  us  to  Paestum." 

Graceful  and  Fido  dragged  themselves  along  to  the  brook, 
trembling  with  hope  and  fear ;  then  entered  the  obscure  path, 
a  little  reanimated  by  the  soft  twittering  of  Pensive.  The 
sun  had  set  \  they  walked  in  the  twilight  for  some  hours,  and, 
when  the  moon  rose,  they  were  out  of  danger.  They  had  still 
to  journey  over  a  painful  and  dangerous  road  for  those  who 
no  longer  had  the  ardor  of  the  morning.  There  were  marshes 
to  cross,  ditches  to  leap,  and  thickets  to  break  through,  which 
tore  Graceful's  face  and  hands ;  but,  at  the  thought  that  he 
could  still  repair  his  fault  and  save  his  grandmother,  his  heart 
was  so  light  that  his  strength  redoubled  at  every  step  with  his 


96  Fairy  Book. 

hope.     At  last,  after  a  thousand  obstacles,  they  reached  Paes- 
tum  just  as  the  stars  marked  midnight 

Graceful  threw  himself  on  the  pavement  of  the  temple  of 
Neptune,  and,  after  thanking  Pensive,  fell  asleep,  with  Fido 
at  his  feet,  wounded,  bleeding,  and  silent. 


IV. 

THE  sleep  was  not  long.  Graceful  was  up  before  day- 
break, which  seemed  long  in  coming.  On  descending  the 
steps  of  the  temple,  he  saw  the  ants,  who  had  raised  a  heap 
of  sand,  and  were  bringing  grain  from  the  new  harvest.  The 
whole  republic  was  in  motion.  The  ants  were  all  going  or 
coming,  talking  to  their  neighbors,  and  receiving  or  giving 
orders ;  some  were  dragging  wisps  of  straw,  others  were  car- 
rying bits  of  wood,  others  conveying  away  dead  flies,  and 
others  heaping  up  provisions :  it  was  a  complete  winter  es- 
tablishment. 

"  What !"  said  Graceful  to  the  ants,  "  are  you  not  going  to 
the  Castle  of  Life  ?  Do  you  renounce  immortality  ?" 

"  We  have  worked  long  enough,"  answered  one  of  the  la- 
borers j  "  the  time  for  harvest  has  come.  The  road  is  long 
and  the  future  uncertain,  and  we  are  rich.  Let  fools  count 
on  to-morrow,  the  wise  man  uses  to-day.  When  a  person 
has  hoarded  riches  honestly,  it  is  true  philosophy  to  enjoy 
them." 

Fido  thought  that  the  ant  was  right ;  but,  as  he  no  longer 
dared  advise,  he  contented  himself  with  shaking  his  head  as 
they  set  out.  Pensive,  on  the  contrary,  said  that  the  ant  was 
a  selfish  fellow,  and  that,  if  life  were  made  only  for  enjoyment, 
the  butterfly  was  wiser  than  he.  At  the  same  time,  and  with 
a  lighter  wing  than  ever,  the  swallow  soared  upward  to  lead 
the  way. 


The  Castle  of  Life.  97 

Graceful  walked  on  in  silence.  Ashamed  of  the  follies  of 
the  day  before,  although  he  still  regretted  the  doe,  he  re- 
solved that  on  the  third  day  nothing  should  turn  him  aside 
from  the  road.  Fido,  with  his  mutilated  ear,  limped  after  his 
master,  and  seemed  not  less  dreamy  than  he.  At  noon  they 
sought  for  a  shady  place  in  which  to  rest  for  a  few  moments. 
The  sun  was  less  scorching  than  the  day  before.  It  seemed 
as  if  both  country  and  season  had  changed.  The  road  lay 
through  meadows  lately  mown  for  the  second  time,  or  beauti- 
ful vineyards  full  of  grapes,  and  was  lined  with  great  fig-trees 
laden  with  fruit,  in  which  thousands  of  insects  were  humming ; 
golden  clouds  were  floating  in  the  horizon,  the  air  was  soft 
and  gentle,  and  every  thing  tempted  to  repose. 

In  the  most  beautiful  of  the  meadows,  by  the  side  of  a 
brook  which  diffused  its  coolness  afar,  Graceful  saw  a  herd 
of  buffaloes  chewing  the  cud  under  the  shade  of  the  ashes 
and  plane-trees.  They  were  lazily  stretched  on  the  ground, 
in  a  circle  around  a  large  bull  that  seemed  their  chief  and 
king.  Graceful  approached  them,  and  was  received  with  po- 
liteness. They  invited  him  by  a  nod  to  be  seated,  and  point- 
ed out  to  him  great  bowls  full  of  milk  and  cheese.  Our  trav- 
eler admired  the  calmness  and  gravity  of  these  peaceful  and 
powerful  animals,  which  seemed  like  so  many  Roman  senators 
in  their  curule  chairs.  The  gold  ring  which  they  wore  in  their 
noses  added  still  more  to  the  majesty  of  their  aspect.  Grace- 
ful, who  felt  calmer  and  more  sedate  than  the  day  before, 
thought,  in  spite  of  himself,  how  pleasant  it  would  be  to  live 
in  the  midst  of  this  peace  and  plenty  ;  if  happiness  were  any 
where,  it  must  surely  be  found  here. 

Fido  shared  his  master's  opinion.  It  was  the  season  of 
the  southward  migration  of  the  quails ;  the  ground  was  cov- 
ered with  tired  birds,  resting  to  regain  strength  before  cross- 
ing the  sea,  and  Fido  had  only  to  stoop  down  to  find  game 

E 


98  Fairy  Book. 

worthy  of  a  prince.    Satiated  with  eating,  he  stretched  himself 
at  GracefuPs  feet,  and  slept  soundly. 

When  the  buffaloes  had  finished  chewing  their  cud,  Grace- 
ful, who  had  hitherto  feared  to  disturb  them,  entered  into  con- 
versation with  the  bull,  who  showed  a  cultivated  mind  and 
wide  experience. 

"  Are  you  the  masters  of  this  rich  domain  ?"  asked  he. 

"  No,"  replied  the  old  buffalo ;  "  we  belong,  with  all  the 
rest,  to  the  Fairy  Crapaudine,  the  Queen  of  the  Vermilion 
Towers,  the  richest  of  all  the  fairies." 

"  What  does  she  require  of  you  ?"  asked  Graceful. 

"  Nothing,  except  to  wear  this  gold  ring  in  the  nose,  and  to 
pay  her  a  tribute  of  milk,"  returned  the  bull,  "  or,  at  most, 
to  give  her  one  of  our  children  from  time  to  time  to  regale 
her  guests.  At  this  price  we  enjoy  our  plenty  in  perfect  se- 
curity, and  we  have  no  reason  to  envy  any  on  earth,  for  none 
are  so  happy  as  we." 

"  Have  you  never  heard  of  the  Castle  of  Life,  and  the  Foun- 
tain of  Immortality  ?"  asked  Graceful,  who,  without  knowing 
why,  blushed  as  he  put  the  question. 

"  There  were  some  old  men  among  our  ancestors  who  still 
talked  of  these  visions,"  replied  the  bull ;  "  but  we  are  wiser 
than  our  fathers ;  we  know  that  there  is  no  other  happiness 
than  to  chew  the  cud  and  sleep." 

Graceful  rose  sadly  to  resume  his  journey,  and  asked  what 
were  those  reddish  square  towers  wrhich  he  saw  in  the  dis- 
tance. 

"  They  are  the  Vermilion  Towers,"  returned  the  bull ;  "  they . 
bar  the  way ;  and  you  must  pass  through  the  castle  of  the 
Fairy  Crapaudine  in  order  to  continue  your  road.  You  will 
see  the  fairy,  my  young  friend,  and  she  will  offer  you  hospi- 
tality and  riches.  Take  my  advice,  and  do  like  those  that 
have  gone  before  you,  all  of  whom  accepted  the  favors  of  our 


The  Castle  of  Life.  99 

mistress,  and  found  that  they  had  done  well  to  abandon  their 
dreams  in  order  to  live  happy." 

"  And  what  became  of  them  ?"  asked  Graceful. 

"They  became  buffaloes  like  us,"  rejoined  the  bull,  who, 
not  having  finished  his  afternoon  nap,  closed  his  eyes  and 
fell  asleep. 

Graceful  started  and  awakened  Fido,  who  rose  grumbling. 
He  called  Pensive.  Pensive  did  not  answer  j  she  was  talk- 
ing with  a  spider  that  had  spun  a  great  web  between  the 
branches  of  an  ash-tree,  which  was  glittering  in  the  sun,  full 
of  flies.  "Why  take  this  long  journey?"  said  the  spider  to 
the  swallow.  "  What  is  the  use  of  changing  your  climate,  and 
putting  your  life  at  the  mercy  of  the  sea,  the  weather,  or  a 
master  ?  Look  at  me ;  I  depend  on  nobody,  and  have  every 
thing  from  myself.  I  am  my  own  mistress ;  I  enjoy  my  art 
and  genius ;  I  bring  the  world  to  me ;  nothing  can  disturb 
either  my  calculations,  or  a  serenity  which  I  owe  to  myself 
alone." 

Graceful  called  Pensive  three  times  without  making  her 
hear,  so  completely  was  she  engrossed  in  admiration  of  her 
new  friend.  Every  instant  some  giddy  fly  fell  into  the  web, 
and  each  time  the  spider,  like  an  attentive  hostess,  offered  the 
prey  to  her  astonished  companion,  when  suddenly  a  breeze 
passed — a  breeze  so  light  that  it  did  not  ruffle  a  feather  of 
the  swallow's  wing.  Pensive  looked  for  the  spider ;  the  web 
had  been  swept  away  by  the  winds,  and  the  poor  insect  was 
clinging  by  one  foot  to  the  last  thread,  when  a  bird  seized  it 
and  bore  it  away. 

V. 

SETTING  out  again  on  their  way,  they  proceeded  in  silence 
to  the  palace  of  Crapaudine.  Graceful  was  introduced  with 
great  ceremony  by  two  beautiful  greyhounds,  caparisoned  with 


ioo  Fairy  Book. 

purple,  and  wearing  on  their  necks  broad  collars  sparkling 
with  rubies.  After  crossing  a  great  number  of  halls,  all  full 
of  pictures,  statues,  gold,  and  silver,  and  coffers  overflowing 
with  money  and  jewels,  Graceful  and  his  companions  entered  a 
circular  temple,  which  was  Crapaudine's  drawing-room.  The 
walls  were  of  lapis-lazuli,  and  the  ceiling,  of  sky-blue  enamel, 
was  supported  by  twelve  chiseled  pillars  of  massive  gold,  with 
capitals  of  acanthus  leaves  of  white  enamel  edged  with  gold. 
A  huge  frog,  as  large  as  a  rabbit,  was  seated  in  a  velvet  easy- 
chair.  It  was  the  fairy  of  the  place.  The  charming  Crapau- 
dine  was  draped  in  a  scarlet  mantle  covered  with  glittering 
spangles,  and  wore  on  her  head  a  ruby  diadem,  whose  lustre 
lighted  up  her  fat  cheeks  mottled  with  green  and  yellow.  As 
soon  as  she  perceived  Graceful,  she  extended  to  him  her 
fingers,  covered  with  rings,  which  the  poor  boy  was  obliged 
respectfully  to  raise  to  his  lips  as  he  bowed. 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  fairy  to  him,  in  a  hoarse  voice,  which 
she  vainly  tried  to  soften, "  I  was  expecting  you,  and  I  will 
not  be  less  generous  to  you  than  my  sisters  have  been.  On 
your  way  here  you  have  seen  but  a  small  part  of  my  riches. 
This  palace,  with  its  pictures,  its  statues,  and  its  coffers  full  of 
gold,  these  vast  domains,  and  these  innumerable  flocks,  all 
may  be  yours  if  you  wish ;  it  depends  only  on  yourself  to  be- 
come the  richest  and  happiest  of  men." 

"What  must  I  do  for  this?"  asked  Graceful,  greatly  ex- 
cited. 

"  Less  than  nothing,"  replied  the  fairy ;  "  chop  me  up  into 
little  pieces  and  eat  me.  It  is  not  a  very  disagreeable  thing 
to  do,"  added  Crapaudine,  looking  at  Graceful  with  eyes  red- 
der than  usual. 

"  Can  I  not  season  you,  at  least  ?"  said  Graceful,  who  had 
been  unable  to  looV  without  envy  at  the  beautiful  gardens  of 
the  fairy. 


The  Castle  of  Life.  ibi 

"  No,  you  must  eat  me  without  seasoning ;  but  walk  about 
my  palace,  see  and  handle  all  my  treasures,  and  reflect  that, 
by  giving  me  this  proof  of  devotion,  they  will  all  be  yours." 

"  Master,"  sighed  Fido,  in  a  supplicating  voice,  "  a  little 
courage !  we  are  so  comfortable  here !" 

Pensive  said  nothing,  but  his  silence  was  consent.  As  to 
Graceful,  who  remembered  the  buffaloes  and  the  gold  ring,  he 
distrusted  the  fairy.  Crapaudine  perceived  it 

"  Do  not  think,  my  dear  Graceful,  that  I  wish  to  deceive 
you,"  she  said.  "  In  offering  you  all  that  I  possess,  I  also  de- 
mand of  you  a  service  which  I  will  reward  as  it  deserves. 
When  you  have  done  what  I  propose,  I  shall  become  a  young 
girl,  as  beautiful  as  Venus,  except  that  my  hands  and  feet  will 
remain  like  those  of  a  frog,  which  is  very  little  when  one  is 
rich.  Ten  princes,  twenty  marquises,  and  thirty  counts  have 
already  begged  me  to  marry  them  as  I  am  ;  when  I  become  a 
woman,  I  will  give  you  the  preference,  and  we  will  enjoy  my 
vast  fortune  together.  Do  not  blush  for  your  poverty ;  you 
have  about  you  a  treasure  that  is  worth  all  mine,  the  vial 
which  my  sister  gave  you."  Saying  this,  she  stretched  out 
her  slimy  fingers  to  seize  the  talisman. 

"  Never !"  cried  Graceful,  shrinking  back,  "  never !  I  wish 
neither  repose  nor  fortune ;  I  wish  to  quit  this  place  and  to 
go  to  the  Castle  of  Life." 

"  You  shall  never  go  there  !"  exclaimed  the  fairy,  in  a  rage. 
The  castle  instantly  disappeared,  a  circle  of  fire  surrounded 
Graceful,  and  an  invisible  clock  began  to  strike  midnight. 
At  the  first  stroke  the  child  started ;  at  the  second,  without 
hesitating,  he  plunged  headlong  into  the  flames.  To  die  for 
his  grandmother  seemed  to  him  the  only  means  of  showing 
his  love  and  repentance. 


IO2  Fairy  Book. 

VI. 

To  Graceful's  surprise,  the  flames  parted  without  touching 
him,  and  he  suddenly  found  himself  in  a  new  country,  with 
his  two  companions  by  his  side.  This  country  was  no  longer 
Italy,  but  Russia,  the  end  of  the  earth.  He  was  wandering 
on  a  mountain  covered  with  snow.  Around  him  he  saw  noth- 
ing but  great  trees,  coated  with  hoar-frost,  and  dripping  water 
from  all  their  branches  ;  a  damp  and  penetrating  mist  chilled 
him  to  the  bones ;  the  moist  earth  sunk  under  his  feet ;  and,  to 
crown  his  wretchedness,  it  was  necessary  to  descend  a  steep 
precipice,  at  the  bottom  of  which  a  torrent  was  breaking  nois- 
ily over  the  rocks.  Graceful  took  his  dagger  and  cut  a  branch 
from  a  tree  to  support  his  faltering  steps.  Fido,  with  his  tail 
between  his  legs,  barked  feebly ;  and  Pensive,  his  ruffled  feath- 
ers covered  with  icicles,  clung  to  his  master's  shoulder.  The 
poor  bird  was  half  dead,  but  she  encouraged  Graceful,  and  did 
not  complain. 

When,  after  infinite  pains,  he  reached  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain, Graceful  found  a  river  filled  with  enormous  icebergs, 
striking  against  each  other  and  whirling  in  the  current,  and 
this  river  he  must  cross,  without  bridge,  without  boat,  and  with- 
out aid. 

"  Master,"  said  Fido,  "  I  can  go  no  farther.  Accursed  be 
the  fairy  that  drew  me  from  nothingness  to  place  me  in  your 
service."  Saying  this,  he  lay  down  on  the  ground  and  would 
not  stir.  Graceful  vainly  tried  to  restore  his  courage,  and 
called  him  his  companion  and  friend.  All  that  the  poor  dog 
could  do  was  to  answer  his  master's  caresses  for  the  last  time 
by  wagging  his  tail  and  licking  his  hands ;  then  his  limbs  stiff- 
ened, and  he  expired. 

Graceful  took  Fido  on  his  back  in  order  to  carry  him  to  the 
Castle  of  Life,  and  boldly  climbed  one  of  the  icebergs,  still 


The  Castle  of  Life.  103 

followed  by  Pensive.  With  his  staff  he  pushed  this  frail  bark 
into  the  middle  of  the  current,  which  bore  it  away  with  fright- 
ful rapidity. 

"  Master,"  said  Pensive,  "  do  you  hear  the  roaring  of  the 
waters  ?  We  are  floating  toward  a  whirlpool  which  will  swal- 
low us  up !  Give  me  a  last  caress,  and  farewell !" 

"  No,"  said  Graceful ;  "  why  should  the  fairies  have  deceived 
us  ?  The  shore  may  be  close  by ;  perhaps  the  sun  is  shin- 
ing behind  the  clouds.  Mount,  mount,  my  good  Pensive ; 
perchance  above  the  fog  you  will  find  light,  and  will  see  the 
Castle  of  Life !" 

Pensive  spread  his  half-frozen  wings,  and  courageously 
soared  amidst  the  cold  and  mist.  Graceful  listened  for  a 
moment  to  the  sound  of  his  flight ;  then  all  was  silent,  while 
the  iceberg  pursued  its  furious  course  through  the  darkness. 
Graceful  waited  a  long  time ;  at  last,  when  he  felt  himself 
alone,  hope  abandoned  him,  and  he  lay  down  to  await  death 
on  the  tottering  iceberg.  Livid  flashes  of  lightning  shot 
through  the  clouds,  horrible  bursts  of  thunder  were  heard,  and 
the  end  of  the  world  and  of  time  seemed  approaching.  All 
at  once,  in  the  midst  of  his  despair,  Graceful  heard  the  cry  of 
the  swallow,  and  Pensive  fell  at  his  feet.  "  Master,  master," 
cried  she, "  you  were  right.  I  have  seen  the  shore  ;  the  dawn 
is  close  at  hand ;  courage !"  Saying  this,  she  convulsively 
spread  her  tired  wings,  and  lay  motionless  and  lifeless. 

Graceful  started  up,  placed  the  poor  bird  that  had  sacri- 
ficed itself  for  him  next  his  heart,  and,  with  superhuman  ar- 
dor, urged  the  iceberg  on  to  safety  or  destruction.  Suddenly 
he  heard  the  roaring  of  the  breakers.  He  fell  on  his  knees 
and  closed  his  eyes,  awaiting  death. 

A  wave  like  a  mountain  broke  over  his  head  and  cast  him 
fainting  on  the  shore,  which  no  living  person  had  touched  be- 
fore him. 


IO4 


Fairy  Book. 


VII. 

WHEN  Graceful  recovered  his  senses,  the  ice,  clouds,  and 
darkness  had  disappeared.  He  was  lying  on  the  ground  in 
the  midst  of  a  charming  country,  covered  with  trees  bathed  in 
a  soft  light.  In  front  of  him  was  a  beautiful  castle,  from 
which  bubbled  a  brook  that  flowed  into  a  sea  as  blue,  calm, 
and  transparent  as  the  sky.  Graceful  looked  about  him  ;  he 
was  alone — alone  with  the  remains  of  his  two  companions, 
which  the  waves  had  washed  on  the  shore.  Exhausted  with 


The  Castle  of  Life.  105 

suffering  and  excitement,  he  dragged  himself  to  the  brook, 
and  bent  over  the  water  to  refresh  his  parched  lips,  when 
he  shrank  back  with  affright.  It  was  not  his  face  that  he  saw 
in  the  water,  but  that  of  an  old  man  with  silvery  locks  who 
strongly  resembled  him.  He  turned  round ;  there  was  no  one 
behind  him.  He  again  drew  near  the  fountain ;  he  saw  the  old 
man,  or  rather,  doubtless,  the  old  man  was  himself.  "  Great 
fairies,"  he  cried, "  I  understand  you.  If  it  is  my  life  that  you 
wish  in  exchange  for  that  of  my  grandmother,  I  joyfully  accept 
the  sacrifice."  And  without  troubling  himself  farther  about 
his  old  age  and  wrinkles,  he  plunged  his  head  into  the  water 
and  drank  eagerly. 

On  rising,  he  was  astonished  to  see  himself  again  as  he 
was  when  he  left  home,  only  more  beautiful,  with  blacker  hair 
and  brighter  eyes  than  ever.  He  picked  up  his  hat,  which 
had  fallen  near  the  spring,  and  which  a  drop  of  water  had 
touched  by  chance,  when  what  was  his  surprise  to  see  the  but- 
terfly that  he  had  pinned  to  it  fluttering  its  wings  and  seeking 
to  fly.  He  gave  it  its  liberty,  and  ran  to  the  beach  for  Fido 
and  Pensive,  then  plunged  them  both  into  the  blessed  foun- 
tain. Pensive  flew  upward  with  a  joyful  cry,  and  disappeared 
amid  the  turrets  of  the  castle.  Fido,  shaking  the  water  from 
both  ears,  ran  to  the  kennels  of  the  palace,  where  he  was  met 
by  magnificent  watch-dogs,  which,  instead  of  barking  and 
growling  at  the  new-comer,  welcomed  him  joyfully  like  an  old 
friend.  Graceful  had  at  last  found  the  fountain  of  immortal- 
ity, or  rather  the  brook  that  flowed  from  it — a  brook  already 
greatly  weakened,  and  which  only  gave  two  or  three  hundred 
years  of  life  to  those  that  drank  of  it ;  but  nothing  prevented 
them  from  drinking  anew. 

Graceful  filled  his  vial  with  this  life-giving  water,  and  ap- 
proached the  palace.  His  heart  beat,  for  a  last  trial  remain- 
ed. So  near  success,  he  feared  the  more  to  fail.  He  mount- 

E  2 


io6  Fairy  Book. 

ed  the  steps  of  the  castle.  All  was  closed  and  silent ;  no  one 
was  there  to  receive  the  traveler.  When  he  had  reached  the 
last  step  and  was  about  to  knock  at  the  door,  a  voice,  rather 
gentle  than  harsh,  stopped  him. 

"  Have  you  loved  ?"  said  the  invisible  voice. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Graceful ;  "  I  have  loved  my  grandmother 
better  than  any  one  in  the  world." 

The  door  opened  a  little  way. 

"  Have  you  suffered  for  her  whom  you  have  loved  ?"  re- 
sumed the  voice. 

"I  have  suffered,"  replied  Graceful ;  "much  through  my  own 
fault,  doubtless,  but  a  little  for  her  whom  I  wished  to  save." 

The  door  opened  half  way,  and  the  child  caught  a  glimpse 
of  woods,  waters,  and  a  sky  more  beautiful  than  any  thing  of 
which  he  had  ever  dreamed. 

"  Have  you  always  done  your  duty  ?"  said  the  voice,  in  a 
harsher  tone. 

"  Alas !  no,"  replied  Graceful,  falling  on  his  knees ;  "  but 
when  I  have  failed  I  have  been  punished  by  my  remorse  even 
more  than  by  the  hard  trials  through  which  I  have  passed. 
Forgive  me,  and  punish  me  as  I  deserve,  if  I  have  not  yet  ex- 
piated all  my  faults ;  but  save  her  whom  I  love — save  my 
grandmother." 

The  door  instantly  opened  wide,  though  Graceful  saw  no 
one.  Intoxicated  with  joy,  he  entered  a  court-yard  surround- 
ed with  arbors  embowered  in  foliage,  with  a  fountain  in  the 
midst,  spouting  from  a  tuft  of  flowers  larger,  more  beautiful, 
and  more  fragrant  than  any  he  had  seen  on  earth.  By  the 
side  of  the  spring  stood  a  woman  dressed  in  white,  of  noble 
bearing,  and  seemingly  not  more  than  forty  years  old.  She 
advanced  to  meet  Graceful,  and  smiled  on  him  so  sweetly 
that  the  child  felt  himself  touched  to  the  heart,  and  his  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 


The  Castle  of  Life.  107 

"  Don't  you  know  me  ?"  said  the  woman. 

"  Oh,  grandmother !  is  it  you  ?"  he  exclaimed.  "  How  came 
you  in  the  Castle  of  Life  ?" 

"  My  child,"  said  she,  pressing  him  to  her  heart, "  He  who 
brought  me  here  is  an  enchanter  more  powerful  than  the 
fairies  of  the  woods  and  the  waters.  I  shall  never  more  re- 
turn to  Salerno.  I  shall  receive  my  reward  here  for  the  little 
good  I  have  done  by  tasting  a  happiness  which  time  will  not 
destroy." 

"  And  me,  grandmother  !"  cried  Graceful,  "  what  will  be- 
come of  me  ?  After  seeing  you  here,  how  can  I  return  to  suf- 
fer alone?" 

"  My  dear  child,"  she  replied, "  no  one  can  live  on  earth 
after  he  has  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  celestial  delights  of  this 
abode.  You  have  lived,  my  dear  Graceful ;  life  has  nothing 
more  to  teach  you.  You  have  passed  in  four  days  through 
the  desert  where  I  languished  eighty  years,  and  henceforth 
nothing  can  separate  us." 

The  door  closed,  and  from  that  time  nothing  was  heard  of 
Graceful  or  his  grandmother.  It  was  in  vain  that  search  was 
made  for  the  palace  and  enchanted  fountain  ;  they  were  never 
more  discovered  on  earth.  But  if  we  understood  the  language 
of  the  stars,  if  we  felt  what  their  gentle  rays  tell  us  every  even- 
ing, we  should  long  ago  have  learned  from  them  where  to  look 
for  the  Castle  of  Life  and  the  Fountain  of  Immortality. 


DESTINY. 

A    DALMATIAN    TALE. 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  were  two  brothers,  who  lived  to- 
gether in  one  family.  One  did  every  thing,  while  the  other 
was  an  idle  fellow,  who  troubled  himself  about  nothing  but 
eating  and  drinking.  The  harvests  were  always  magnificent ; 
they  had  cows,  horses,  sheep,  pigs,  bees,  and  every  thing  else 
in  plenty. 

The  elder  brother,  who  did  every  thing,  said  to  himself  one 
day,  "  Why  should  I  work  for  this  idler  ?  It  is  better  for  us 
to  separate ;  I  will  work  for  myself  alone,  and  he  can  do  as 
he  likes."  He  said  to  his  brother,  therefore, 

"  Brother,  it  is  not  just  for  me  to  do  every  thing,  while  you 
trouble  yourself  about  nothing  but  eating  and  drinking ;  we 
must  separate." 

His  brother  tried  to  dissuade  him  from  his  plan,  saying, 

"  Brother,  don't  do  this,  we  are  so  well  off  as  we  are.  You 
have  every  thing  in  your  own  hands ;  what  is  mine  is  yours ; 
and  you  know  that  I  am  always  satisfied  with  what  you  do  or 
order  done." 

The  elder,  however,  persisted  in  his  resolution  till  the  youn- 
ger was  forced  to  yield.  "  Since  it  must  be  so,"  said  he, "  I  am. 
not  angry;  divide  the  property  as  you  like." 

The  division  made,  each  took  his  share.  The  idler  hired  a 
drover  for  his  cattle,  a  groom  for  his  horses,  a  shepherd  for 
his  sheep,  a  goatherd  for  his  goats,  a  swineherd  for  his  hogs, 
and  a  keeper  for  his  bees,  and  said  to  them  all, "  I  intrust  my 


Destiny.  109 

property  to  you :  may  God  have  you  in  his  keeping."  And 
he  continued  to  stay  at  home  with  no  more  care  than  be- 
fore. 

The  elder,  on  the  contrary,  labored  for  himself  as  he  had 
done  for  the  common  good ;  he  kept  his  own  flocks,  and  had 
an  eye  to  every  thing ;  yet,  in  spite  of  all  this,  he  found  bad 
luck  and  misfortune  every  where ;  every  thing  went  wrong 
with  him,  until  at  last  he  was  so  poor  that  he  had  not  even  a 
pair  of  shoes,  but  was  forced  to  go  barefoot.  He  said  to  him- 
self, "  I  will  go  to  my  brother's  house,  and  see  how  affairs 
are  prospering  with  him." 

His  road  lay  through  a  pasture  in  which  a  flock  of  sheep 
was  feeding.  On  approaching  them  he  saw  that  they  had  no 
shepherd.  A  beautiful  young  girl  was  seated  near  them,  with 
her  distaff,  spinning  gold  thread. 

He  saluted  the  young  girl,  and  asked  her  to  whom  the  flock 
belonged. 

"  To  him  to  whom  I  belong  belong  also  these  sheep,"  an- 
swered she. 

"  And  who  are  you  ?"  said  he. 

"  I  am  your  brother's  fortune  ?"  she  replied. 

"  And  where  is  my  fortune  ?"  he  exclaimed,  seized  with 
anger  and  envy. 

"  Ah !  she  is  far  from  you,"  said  the  young  girl. 

"Can  I  find  her?"  asked  he. 

"You  can,"  she  replied,  "if  you  only  look  yonder." 

On  hearing  these  words,  and  seeing  that  the  sheep  were 
the  finest  that  could  be  imagined,  he  had  no  wish  to  see  the 
other  flocks,  but  went  straight  to  his  brother,  who,  as  soon  as 
he  saw  him,  burst  into  tears,  moved  with  pity. 

"Where  have  you  been  so  long?"  asked  he.  And,  seeing 
him  clothed  in  rags  and  barefooted,  he  gave  him  a  pair  of 
shoes  and  some  money. 


1 10  Fairy  Book. 

After  staying  three  days  in  his  brother's  house,  the  poor 
man  set  out  for  home.  No  sooner  had  he  reached  his  house 
than  he  threw  a  bag  across  his  shoulder,  with  a  piece  of  bread 
in  it,  took  a  staff  in  his  hand,  and  set  out  to  seek  his  fortune. 

After  walking  for  some  time  he  found  himself  in  a  great 
forest,  where  he  saw  a  wretched  old  hag  asleep  under  a  tree. 
He  gave  her  a  blow  on  the  back  with  his  staff  to  awaken  her. 
She  moved  with  difficulty,  and,  half  opening  her  bleared  eyes, 
said  to  him,  "  Thank  God  that  I  was  asleep,  for  if  I  had  been 
awake  you  would  not  have  had  those  shoes." 

"  Who  are  you,  then,"  asked  he,  "  that  would  have  prevent- 
ed my  having  these  shoes  ?" 

"  I  am  your  fortune,"  answered  the  old  woman. 

"  What !  are  you  my  fortune  ?"  cried  he,  striking  his  breast. 
"  May  God  exterminate  you  !  Who  gave  you  to  me  ?" 

"  It  was  Destiny,"  replied  the  old  woman. 

"Where  is  Destiny?"  he  asked. 

"  Go  and  find  him,"  said  the  old  woman,  lying  down  to 
sleep  again. 

He  set  out  in  search  of  Destiny.  After  a  long,  long  jour- 
ney, at  length  he  reached  a  wood,  where  he  found  a  hermit, 
of  whom  he  asked  the  way  to  the  abode  of  Destiny. 

"Go  straight  up  yonder  mountain,  and  you  will  find  his 
castle,"  answered  the  hermit ;  "  but  when  you  find  him,  take 
care  not  to  speak  to  him,  but  only  do  all  that  you  see  him  do." 

The  traveler  thanked  the  hermit,  and  took  his  way  to  the 
mountain.  When  he  reached  the  abode  of  Destiny,  he  saw  a 
magnificent  palace  full  of  servants  constantly  bustling  about 
and  doing  nothing.  As  to  Destiny,  he  was  supping  at  a  table 
bountifully  served.  When  the  stranger  saw  this,  he  also  sat 
down  at  the  table  and  supped  with  the  master  of  the  house. 
After  supper  Destiny  went  to  bed,  and  his  guest  did  the  same. 

At  midnight  a  terrible  noise  was  heard  in  the  castle,  and  a 


Destiny.  1 1 1 

voice  cried,  "  Destiny,  Destiny,  such  a  number  of  souls  have 
come  into  the  world  this  night ;  give  them  something  accord- 
ing to  thy  good  pleasure." 

And  behold  !  Destiny  rose,  and  opened  a  golden  chest 
filled  with  shining  guineas,  which  he  scattered  by  handfuls 
about  the  room,  saying,  "  Such  as  I  am  to-day,  such  shalt  thou 
be  all  thy  life  !" 

At  daybreak  the  beautiful  castle  had  vanished,  and  in  its 
place  stood  an  ordinary  house,  in  which,  however,  nothing  was 
wanting.  When  evening  came,  Destiny  sat  down  to  supper. 
His  guest  did  the  same,  but  no  one  spoke  a  word.  Supper 
over,  they  went  to  bed.  At  midnight  a  terrible  noise  was 
heard,  and  a  voice  cried,  "  Destiny,  Destiny,  such  a  number 
of  souls  have  come  into  the  world  this  night;  give  them 
something  according  to  thy  good  pleasure." 

And  behold !  Destiny  rose,  and  opened  a  silver  chest,  but 
this  time  there  were  no  guineas  in  it,  but  only  silver  coin,  with 
a  few  small  pieces  of  gold,  which  Destiny  scattered  on  the 
floor,  saying, "  Such  as  I  am  to-day,  such  shalt  thou  be  all  thy 
life !" 

At  daybreak  this  house  had  also  disappeared,  and  a  small- 
er one  stood  in  its  place.  The  same  thing  happened  every 
night,  and  every  morning  the  house  was  smaller,  until  finally 
there  was  nothing  but  a  wretched  hut.  Destiny  now  took  a 
spade  and  began  to  dig  the  ground.  His  guest  did  the  same, 
and  both  worked  all  day.  When  night  came,  Destiny  took  a 
crust  of  bread,  and,  breaking  it  in  two,  gave  half  to  his  com- 
panion. This  was  all  their  supper.  When  they  had  eaten  it 
they  went  to  bed. 

At  midnight  a  terrible  noise  was  heard,  and  a  voice  cried 
out,  "  Destiny,  Destiny,  such  a  number  of  souls  have  come 
into  the  world  this  night ;  give  them  something  according  to 
thy  good  pleasure." 


1 1 2  Fairy  Book. 

And  behold !  Destiny  rose,  and  opened  a  wooden  chest 
filled  with  pebbles  mixed  with  a  few  copper  coins,  which  he 
scattered  on  the  ground,  saying,  "  Such  as  I  am  to-day,  such 
shalt  thou  be  all  thy  life  !" 

When  morning  dawned  the  cabin  was  changed  into  a  splen- 
did palace,  as  on  the  first  day.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  Des- 
tiny spoke  to  his  guest.  "  Why  did  you  come  here  ?"  asked  he. 

The  poor  man  told  him  the  whole  story  of  his  wretched- 
ness, and  how  he  had  come  to  ask  Destiny  himself  why  he 
had  given  him  such  a  bad  fortune. 

"  You  saw  what  I  was  the  first  night,  when  I  scattered  guin- 
eas, and  what  followed,"  replied  Destiny.  "  Such  as  I  am  on 
the  night  that  a  man  is  born,  such  will  that  man  be  all  his  life. 
You  were  born  on  a  night  of  poverty ;  you  will  always  be  poor. 
Your  brother,  on  the  contrary,  came  into  the  world  on  a  lucky 
night ;  he  will  always  be  fortunate.  But,  since  you  have  taken 
so  much  trouble  to  find  me,  I  will  tell  you  how  to  help  your- 
self. Your  brother  has  a  daughter  by  the  name  of  Miliza, 
who  is  as  fortunate  as  her  father.  Take  her  for  your  wife 
when  you  return  home,  but  be  careful  always  to  say  that  all 
that  you  have  belongs  to  her." 

The  poor  man  thanked  Destiny  again  and  again,  and  set 
out  for  home.  As  soon  as  he  arrived,  he  went  straight  to 
his  brother's  house  and  said, 

"  Brother,  give  me  Miliza  for  a  wife  ;  you  see  that  I  am  all 
alone  in  the  world." 

"I  am  willing,"  answered  his  brother ;  "  Miliza  is  yours." 

The  bridegroom  carried  Miliza  to  his  house.  He  soon  be- 
came very  rich,  but  he  always  took  good  care  to  say,  "All  that 
I  have  belongs  to  Miliza." 

One  day,  however,  as  he  was  admiring  his  wheat,  which  was 
the  most  beautiful  that  ever  was  seen,  a  stranger  passed  by 
and  asked,  "  Whose  wheat  is  this  ?" 


Destiny.  113 

"  It  is  mine,"  answered  he,  without  thinking.  But  scarcely 
had  he  spoken,  when  behold !  the  wheat  took  fire,  and '  the 
flames  spread  all  over  the  field.  Without  stopping  to  put  it 
out,  he  ran  after  the  traveler,  crying,  "  Stop,  sir,  I  was  mis- 
taken ;  it  belongs  to  Miliza,  my  brother's  daughter." 

The  fire  went  out  at  once  of  its  own  accord.  He  had 
learned  a  good  lesson  which  he  never  forgot,  and  from  that 
time  thenceforth  he  was  fortunate,  thanks  to  Miliza. 


THE    TWELVE  MONTHS. 

A    BOHEMIAN    TALE. 

THERE  was  once  a  woman  who  was  left  a  widow  with  two 
children.  The  elder,  who  was  only  her  step-daughter,  was 
named  Dobrunka ;  the  younger,  who  was  as  wicked  as  her 
mother,  was  called  Katinka.  The  mother  worshiped  her 
daughter,  but  she  hated  Dobrunka,  simply  because  she  was 
as  beautiful  as  her  sister  was  ugly.  Dobrunka  did  not  even 
know  that  she  was  pretty,  and  she  could  not  understand  why 
her  step-mother  flew  into  a  rage  at  the  mere  sight  of  her. 
The  poor  child  was  obliged  to  do  all  the  work  of  the  house ; 
she  had  to  sweep,  cook,  wash,  sew,  spin,  weave,  cut  the  grass, 
and  take  care  of  the  cow,  while  Katinka  lived  like  a  princess, 
that  is  to  say,  did  nothing. 

Dobrunka  worked  with  a  good  will,  and  took  reproaches 
and  blows  with  the  gentleness  of  a  lamb ;  but  nothing  soothed 
her  step-mother,  for  every  day  added  to  the  beauty  of  the  eld- 
er sister  and  the  ugliness  of  the  younger.  "  They  are  grow- 
ing up,"  thought  the  mother,  "  and  suitors  will  soon  appear, 
who  will  refuse  my  daughter  when  they  see  this  hateful  Do- 
brunka, who  grows  beautiful  on  purpose  to  spite  me.  I  must 
get  rid  of  her,  cost  what  it  may." 

One  day  in  the  middle  of  January,  Katinka  took  a  fancy 
for  some  violets.  She  called  Dobrunka,  and  said, "  Go  to  the 
forest  and  bring  me  a  bunch  of  violets,  that  I  may  put  them 
in  my  bosom  and  enjoy  their  fragrance." 

"  Oh,  sister,  what  an  idea !"  answered  Dobrunka ;  "  as  if 
i here  were  any  violets  under  the  snow !" 


The  Twelve  Months.  1 1 5 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  stupid  fool,"  returned  her  sister,  "  and 
do  as  I  bid  you.  If  you  do  not  go  to  the  forest  and  bring  me 
back  a  bunch  of  violets,  I  will  beat  you  to  a  jelly."  Upon 
this,  the  mother  took  Dobrunka  by  the  arm,  put  her  out  of 
the  door,  and  drew  the  bolt  on  her. 

The  poor  girl  went  to  the  forest  weeping  bitterly.  Every 
thing  was  covered  with  snow ;  there  was  not  even  a  foot-path. 
She  lost  her  way,  and  wandered  about  till,  famishing  with 
hunger  and  perishing  with  cold,  she  entreated  God  to  take 
her  from  this  wretched  life. 

All  at  once  she  saw  a  light  in  the  distance.  She  went  on, 
climbing  higher  and  higher,  until  at  last  she  reached  the  top 
of  a  huge  rock,  upon  which  a  great  fire  was  built.  Around 
the  fire  were  twelve  stones,  and  on  each  stone  sat  a  motion- 
less figure,  wrapped  in  a  large  mantle,  his  head  covered  with 
a  hood  which  fell  over  his  eyes.  Three  of  these  mantles  were 
white  like  the  snow,  three  were  green  like  the  grass  of  the 
meadows,  three  were  golden  like  the  sheaves  of  ripe  wheat, 
and  three  were  purple  like  the  grapes  of  the  vine.  These 
twelve  figures,  gazing  at  the  fire  in  silence,  were  the  Twelve 
Months  of  the  year. 

Dobrunka  knew  January  by  his  long  white  beard.  He  was 
the  only  one  that  had  a  staff  in  his  hand.  The  poor  girl  was 
terribly  frightened.  She  drew  near,  saying,  in  a  timid  voice, 
"  My  good  sirs,  please  to  let  me  warm  myself  by  your  fire  ;  I 
am  freezing  with  cold." 

January  nodded  his  head.  "  Why  have  you  come  here,  my 
child  ?"  he  asked.  "  What  are  you  looking  for  ?" 

"  I  am  looking  for  violets,"  replied  Dobrunka. 

"  This  is  not  the  season  for  them ;  there  are  no  violets  in 
the  time  of  snow,"  said  January,  in  his  gruff  voice. 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  Dobrunka,  sadly  ;  "  but  my  sister  and 
mother  will  beat  me  to  a  jelly  if  I  do  not  bring  them  some. 
My  good  sirs,  please  to  tell  me  where  I  can  find  them." 


n6 


Fairy  Book. 


Old  January  rose,  and,  turning  to  a  young  man  in  a  green 
mantle,  put  his  staff  in  his  hand,  and  said  to  him,  "  Brother 
March,  this  is  your  business." 


The  Twelve  Months.  117 

March  rose  in  turn,  and  stirred  the  fire  with  the  staff,  when 
behold  !  the  flames  rose,  the  snow  melted,  the  buds  put  forth 
on  the  trees,  the  grass  turned  green  under  the  bushes,  the 
flowers  peeped  through  the  verdure,  and  the  violets  opened—- 
it was  spring. 

"Make  haste,  my  child,  and  gather  your  violets,"  said 
March. 

Dobrunka  gathered  a  large  bouquet,  thanked  the  Twelve 
Months,  and  joyfully  ran  home.  You  can  imagine  the  aston- 
ishment of  Katinka  and  the  step-mother.  The  fragrance  of 
the  violets  filled  the  whole  house. 

"  Where  did  you  find  these  fine  things  ?"  asked  Katinka,  in 
a  disdainful  voice. 

"  Up  yonder,  on  the  mountain,"  answered  her  sister.  "  It 
looked  like  a  great  blue  carpet  under  the  bushes." 

Katinka  put  the  bouquet  in  her  bosom,  and  did  not  even 
thank  the  poor  child. 

The  next  morning  the  wicked  sister,  as  she  sat  idling  by  the 
stove,  took  a  fancy  for  some  strawberries. 

"  Go  to  the  forest  and  bring  me  some  strawberries,"  said 
she  to  Dobrunka. 

"  Oh,  sister,  what  an  idea !  as  if  there  were  any  strawberries 
under  the  snow!" 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  stupid  fool,  and  do  as  I  bid  you.  If 
you  don't  go  to  the  forest  and  bring  me  back  a  basket  of 
strawberries,  I  will  beat  you  to  a  jelly." 

The  mother  took  Dobrunka  by  the  arm,  put  her  out  of  the 
door,  and  drew  the  bolt  on  her. 

The  poor  girl  returned  to  the  forest,  looking  with  all  her 
eyes  for  the  light  that  she  had  seen  the  day  before.  She  was 
fortunate  enough  to  spy  it,  and  she  reached  the  fire  trembling 
and  almost  frozen. 

The  Twelve  Months  were  in  their  places,  motionless  and 


1 1 8  Fairy  Book. 

"  My  good  sirs,"  said  Dobrunka,  "  please  to  let  me  warm 
myself  by  your  fire ;  I  am  almost  frozen  with  cold." 

"Why  have  you  returned?"  asked  January.  "What  are 
you  looking  for  ?" 

"  I  am  looking  for  strawberries,"  answered  she. 

"  This  is  not  the  season  for  them,"  returned  January,  in  his 
gruff  voice ;  "there  are  no  strawberries  under  the  snow." 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  Dobrunka,  sadly ;  "  but  my  mother 
and  sister  will  beat  me  to  a  jelly  if  I  do  not  bring  them  some. 
My  good  sirs,  please  to  tell  me  where  I  can  find  them." 

Old  January  rose,  and,  turning  to  a  man  in  a  golden  man- 
tle, he  put  his  staff  in  his  hand,  saying, "  Brother  June,  this  is 
your  business." 

June  rose  in  turn,  and  stirred  the  fire  with  the  staff,  when 
behold  !  the  flames  rose,  the  snow  melted,  the  earth  grew 
green,  the  trees  were  covered  with  leaves,  the  birds  sang, 
and  the  flowers  opened  —  it  was  summer.  Thousands  of 
little  white  stars  enameled  the  turf,  then  turned  to  red  straw- 
berries, looking,  in  their  green  cups,  like  rubies  set  in  emer- 
alds. 

"  Make  haste,  my  child,  and  gather  your  strawberries,"  said 
June. 

Dobrunka  filled  her  apron,  thanked  the  Twelve  Months, 
and  joyfully  ran  home.  You  may  imagine  the  astonishment 
of  Katinka  and  the  step-mother.  The  fragrance  of  the  straw- 
berries filled  the  whole  house. 

"  Where  did  you  find  these  fine  things  ?"  asked  Katinka,  in 
a  disdainful  voice. 

"  Up  yonder  on  the  mountain,"  answered  her  sister ;  "  there 
were  so  many  of  them  that  they  looked  like  blood  poured  on 
the  ground. 

Katinka  and  her  mother  devoured  the  strawberries  without 
even  thanking  the  poor  child. 


The  Twelve  Months.  119 

The  third  day  the  wicked  sister  took  a  fancy  for  some  red 
apples.  The  same  threats,  the  same  insults,  and  the  same  vi- 
olence followed.  Dobrunka  ran  to  the  mountain,  and  was 
fortunate  enough  to  find  the  Twelve  Months  warming  them- 
selves, motionless  and  silent. 

"  You  here  again,  my  child?"  said  old  January,  making  room 
for  her  by  the  fire.  Dobrunka  told  him,  with  tears,  how,  if 
she  did  not  bring  home  some  red  apples,  her  mother  and  sis- 
ter would  beat  her  to  death. 

Old  January  repeated  the  ceremonies  of  the  day  before. 
"  Brother  September,"  said  he  to  a  gray-bearded  man  in  a 
purple  mantle, "this  is  your  business." 

September  rose  and  stirred  the  fire  with  the  staff,  when  be- 
hold !  the  flames  ascended,  the  snow  melted,  and  the  trees 
put  forth  a  few  yellow  leaves,  which  fell  one  by  one  before  the 
wind  —  it  was  autumn.  The  only  flowers  were  a  few  late 
pinks,  daisies,  and  immortelles.  Dobrunka  saw  but  one  thing, 
an  apple-tree  with  its  rosy  fruit. 

"  Make  haste,  my  child ;  shake  the  tree,"  said  Septem- 
ber. 

She  shook  it,  and  an  apple  fell ;  she  shook  it  again,  and  a 
second  apple  followed. 

"  Make  haste,  Dobrunka,  make  haste  home  !"  cried  Septem- 
ber, in  an  imperious  voice. 

The  good  child  thanked  the  Twelve  Months,  and  joyfully 
ran  home.  You  may  imagine  the  astonishment  of  Katinka 
and  the  step-mother. 

"  Green  apples  in  January !  ,  Where-  did  you  get  these  ap- 
ples ?"  asked  Katinka. 

"  Up  yonder  on  the  mountain ;  there  is  a  tree  there  that  is 
as  red  with  them  as  a  cherry-tree  in  July." 

"  Why  did  you  bring  only  two  ?  You  ate  the  rest  on  the 
way." 


I2O  Fairy  Book. 

"  Oh,  sister,  I  did  not  touch  them  ;  I  was  only  permitted  to 
shake  the  tree  twice,  and  but  two  apples  fell." 

"  Begone,  you  fool !"  cried  Katinka,  striking  her  sister,  who 
ran  away  crying. 

The  wicked  girl  tasted  one  of  the  apples  j  she  had  never 
eaten  any  thing  so  delicious  in  her  life,  neither  had  her  moth- 
er. How  they  regretted  not  having  any  more ! 

"  Mother,"  said  Katinka, "  give  me  my  fur  cloak.  I  will  go 
to  the  forest  and  find  the  tree,  and,  whether  I  am  permitted  or 
not,  I  will  shake  it  so  hard  that  all  the  apples  will  be  ours." 

The  mother  tried  to  stop  her.  A  spoiled  child  listens  to 
nothing.  Katinka  wrapped  herself  in  her  fur  cloak,  drew  the 
hood  over  her  head,  and  hastened  to  the  forest. 

Every  thing  was  covered  with  snow ;  there  was  not  even  a 
foot-path.  Katinka  lost  her  way,  but  she  pushed  on,  spurred 
by  pride  and  covetousness.  She  spied  a  light  in  the  distance. 
She  climbed  and  climbed  till  she  reached  the  place,  and  found 
the  Twelve  Months  each  seated  on  his  stone,  motionless  and 
silent.  Without  asking  their  permission,  she  approached  the 
fire. 

"  Why  have  you  come  here  ?  What  do  you  want  ?  Where 
are  you  going  ?"  asked  old  January,  gruffly. 

"  What  matters  it  to  you,  old  fool  ?"  answered  Katinka.  "  It 
is  none  of  your  business  where  I  came  from  or  whither  I  am 
going."  She  plunged  into  the  forest.  January  frowned,  and 
raised  his  staff  above  his  head.  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
the  sky  was  overcast,  the  fire  went  out,  the  snow  fell,  and  the 
wind  blew.  Katinka  could  not  see  the  way  before  her.  She 
lost  herself,  and  vainly  tried  to  retrace  her  steps.  The  snow 
fell  and  the  wind  blew.  She  called  her  mother,  she  cursed 
her  sister,  she  cursed  God.  The  snow  fell  and  the  wind  blew. 
Katinka  froze,  her  limbs  stiffened,  and  she  fell  motionless. 
The  snow  still  fell  and  the  wind  still  blew. 


The  Twelve  Months.  121 

The  mother  went  without  ceasing  from  the  window  to  the 
door,  and  from  the  door  to  the  window.  The  hours  passed, 
and  Katinka  did  not  return. 

"  I  must  go  and  look  for  my  daughter,"  said  she.  "  The 
child  has  forgotten  herself  with  those  hateful  apples."  She 
took  her  fur  cloak  and  hood,  and  hastened  to  the  mountain. 
Every  thing  was  covered  with  snow ;  there  was  not  even  a 
foot-path.  She  plunged  into  the  forest,  calling  her  daughter. 
The  snow  fell  and  the  wind  blew.  She  walked  on  with  fever- 
ish anxiety,  shouting  at  the  top  of  her  voice.  The  snow  still 
fell  and  the  wind  still  blew. 

Dobrunka  waited  through  the  evening  and  the  night,  but  no 
one  returned.  In  the  morning  she  took  her  wheel  and  spun 
a  whole  distaff  full ;  there  was  still  no  news.  "  What  can 
have  happened  ?"  said  the  good  girl,  weeping.  The  sun  was 
shining  through  an  icy  mist,  and  the  ground  was  covered  with 
snow.  Dobrunka  prayed  for  her  mother  and  sister.  They 
did  not  return ;  and  it  was  not  till  spring  that  a  shepherd 
found  the  two  corpses  in  the  forest 

Dobrunka  remained  the  sole  mistress  of  the  house,  the  cow, 
and  the  garden,  to  say  nothing  of  a  piece  of  meadow  adjoin- 
ing the  house.  But  when  a  good  and  pretty  girl  has  a  field 
under  her  window,  the  next  thing  that  follows  is  a  young  farm- 
er, who  offers  her  his  heart  and  hand.  Dobrunka  was  soon 
married.  The  Twelve  Months  did  not  abandon  their  child. 
More  than  once,  when  the  north  wind  blew  fearfully  and  the 
windows  shook  in  their  frames,  old  January  stopped  up  all  the 
crevices  of  the  house  with  snow,  so  that  the  cold  might  not 
enter  this  peaceful  abode. 

Dobrunka  lived  to  a  good  old  age,  always  virtuous  and 
happy,  having,  according  to  the  proverb,  winter  at  the  door, 
summer  in  the  barn,  autumn  in  the  cellar,  and  spring  in  the 
heart. 

F 


SSWANDA,  THE  PIPER. 

A    BOHEMIAN    TALE. 

SSWANDA,  the  Piper,  was  a  jolly  companion.  Like  every 
true  musician,  he  was  born  with  an  unquenchable  thirst ;  be- 
sides, he  was  madly  fond  of  play,  and  would  have  risked  his 
soul  at  strajak,  the  favorite  game  at  cards  in  Bohemia.  When 
he  had  earned  a  little  money,  he  would  throw  aside  his  pipes, 
and  drink  and  play  with  the  first  comer  till  he  returned  to  his 
home  as  light  in  pocket  as  when  he  had  left  it.  But  he  was 
always  so  merry,  witty,  and  good-natured  that  not  a  drinker 
ever  left  the  table  while  the  piper  was  there,  and  his  name 
still  lives  in  Bohemia  as  the  prince  of  good  fellows. 

One  day  there  was  a  festival  at  Mokran,  and  no  merry- 
making was  ever  complete  without  the  piper.  Sswanda,  after 
blowing  his  pipe  till  midnight  and  earning  twenty  zwanzigers, 
determined  to  amuse  himself  on  his  own  account.  Neither 
prayers  nor  promises  could  persuade  him  to  go  on  with  his 
music ;  he  was  determined  to  drink  his  fill  and  to  shuffle  the 
cards  at  his  ease ;  but,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  found 
no  one  to  play  with  him. 

Sswanda  was  not  the  man  to  quit  the  inn  so  long  as  he 
had  a  kreutzer  in  his  pocket,  and  on  that  day  he  had  many 
of  them.  By  dint  of  talking,  laughing,  and  drinking,  he  took 
one  of  those  fixed  ideas  which  are  not  uncommon  among 
those  who  look  too  often  in  the  bottom  of  their  glass,  and  de- 
termined to  play  at  any  price ;  but  all  his  neighbors  refused 
his  challenge.  Furious  at  finding  no  partner,  he  rose  with  an 
unsteady  step,  paid  for  what  he  had  drank,  and  left  the  inn, 


Sswanda,  the  Piper. 


123 


"  I  will  go  to  Drazic,"  said  he  j  "  the  schoolmaster  and  the 
bailiff  there  are  honest  peo- 
ple who  are  not  afraid  of 
play,  and  I  shall  find  part- 
ners.    Hurrah !" 

The  night  was  clear,  and 
the  moon  shone  like  a  fish's 
eye.  On  reaching  a  cross- 
road, Sswanda  raised  his 
eyes  by  chance,  and  stop- 
ped mute  and  motionless. 
A  flock  of  ravens  were 
croaking  over  his  head,  and 
in  front  of  him  rose  four 
posts,  standing  like  pillars, 
and  connected  at  the  top 
by  cross-beams,  from  each 
of  which  swung  a  half-de- 
voured corpse.  It  was  a 
robbers'  gallows,  a  specta- 
cle by  no  means  amusing 
to  a  less  stoical  spirit  than 
that  of  Sswanda. 

He  had  not  recovered 
from  the  first  shudder  when 
suddenly  there  appeared 
before  him  a  man  dressed 
in  black,  with  pale  and 
hollow  cheeks,  and  eyes 
that  glittered  like  carbun- 
cles. 

"Where  are  you  going 
so  late,  friend  Piper?"  asked  he,  in  a  soft  voice. 


124  Fairy  Book. 

"  To  Drazic,  Mr.  Black  Coat,"  answered  the  intrepid 
Sswanda. 

"  Would  you  like  to  earn  something  by  your  music  ?" 

"  I  am  tired  of  blowing,"  returned  Sswanda.  "  I  have  some 
silver  in  my  pocket,  and  wish  to  amuse  myself." 

"  Who  talks  to  you  of  silver  ?     It  is  with  gold  that  we  pay." 

Saying  this,  the  stranger  flashed  before  his  eyes  a  handful 
of  shining  ducats.  The  piper  was  the  son  of  a  thrifty  moth- 
er ;  he  knew  not  how  to  resist  such  an  invitation,  and  followed 
the  black  man  and  his  gold. 

How  the  time  passed  he  never  could  remember.  It  is  true 
that  his  head  was  a  little  heavy.  The  only  thing  that  he  rec- 
ollected was  that  the  black  man  warned  him  to  accept  what- 
ever was  offered  him,  whether  gold  or  wine,  but  never  to  re- 
turn thanks  except  by  saying  "  Good  luck,  brother !" 

Without  knowing  how  he  had  entered,  he  found  himself  in 
a  dark  room  where  three  men,  dressed  in  black  like  his  guide, 
were  playing  at  strajak  by  no  other  light  than  their  glittering 
eyes.  On  the  table  were  piles  of  gold,  and  a  jug  from  which 
each  one  drank  in  his  turn. 

"  Brothers,"  said  the  black  man,  "  I  bring  you  friend  Sswan- 
da, whom  you  have  long  known  by  reputation.  I  thought  to 
please  you  on  this  feast-day  by  giving  you  a  little  music." 

"  A  good  idea !"  said  one  of  the  players.  Then,  taking  the 
jug,  he  handed  it  to  Sswanda,  saying,  "  Here,  piper,  drink  and 
play." 

Sswanda  had  some  scruples ;  but,  after  all,  it  is  impossible 
to  have  charcoal  without  putting  your  finger?  into  the  ashes. 
The  wine,  though  rather  warm,  was  not  bad.  He  replaced 
the  jug  on  the  table,  and,  raising  his  hat,  said,  "Good  luck, 
brother !"  as  he  had  been  advised. 

He  began  to  play,  and  never  had  his  music  produced  such 
an  effect.  Each  note  made  the  players  leap  for  joy.  Their 


Sswanda,  the  Piper.  123 

eyes  shot  forth  flames ;  they  moved  about  uneasily  in  their 
chairs ;  they  staked  the  ducats  by  handfuls  ;  they  shouted  and 
burst  into  loud  fits  of  laughter  without  stirring  a  muscle  of 
their  pallid  faces.  The  jug  passed  from  hand  to  hand,  always 
full,  though  replenished  by  no  one. 

As  soon  as  Sswanda  finished  an  air,  they  handed  him  the 
jug,  from  which  he  never  failed  to  drink  deeply,  and  threw 
handfuls  of  gold  into  his  hat.  "  Good  luck,  brother !"  he  re- 
peated, astounded  at  his  fortune— "  good  luck !" 

The  feast  lasted  a  long  time.  At  last,  the  piper  having 
struck  up  a  polka,  the  black  men,  in  a  transport  of  mirth, 
quitted  the  table,  and  danced  and  waltzed  with  an  ardor  and 
frenzy  which  ill  accorded  with  their  icy  faces.  One  of  the 
dancers  gathered  up  all  the  gold  that  was  heaped  on  the  table, 
and,  pouring  it  into  Sswanda's  hat,  "  Here,"  said  he,  "  take 
this  for  the  pleasure  that  you  have  given  us." 

"  God  bless  you,  my  good  lords !"  said  the  dazzled  piper. 
Scarcely  had  he  spoken  when  men,  room,  and  cards  vanished. 

In  the  morning  a  peasant  on  his  way  to  the  fields  heard 
the  sound  of  a  pipe  as  he  approached  the  cross-road.  "  It  is 
Sswanda,"  said  he.  But  where  was  the  piper  ?  Seated  on  a 
corner  of  the  gallows,  he  was  blowing  with  all  his  might,  while 
the  corpses  of  the  robbers  danced  in  the  wind  to  his  music. 

"  Halloo,  comrade  !"  cried  the  peasant,  "  how  long  have  you 
been  playing  the  cuckoo  up  there  ?" 

Sswanda  started,  dropped  his  pipe,  opened  his  eyes,  and 
glided,  bewildered,  down  the  gallows.  His  first  thought,  how- 
ever, was  for  his  ducats.  He  rummaged  his  pockets,  and 
turned  his  hat  inside  out,  but  all  in  vain ;  there  was  not  even 
a  kreutzer ! 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  peasant,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
"  God  has  punished  you  by  giving  you  the  devil  for  a  partner  j 
you  love  cards  too  well." 


i?6  Fairy  Book. 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Sswanda,  trembling ;  "  I  will  never 
touch  them  again  in  my  life." 

He  kept  his  word  j  and,  to  thank  Heaven  for  having  pre- 
served him  from  such  peril,  he  took  the  fatal  pipe  to  which 
the  devil  had  danced,  and  suspended  it  as  a  votive  offering  in 
the  church  of  Strakonic,  his  birth-place,  where  it  may  be  seec 
to  this  day.  The  pipe  of  Strakonic  has  become  a  proverb, 
and  it  is  even  said  that  its  sound  is  heard  every  year  at  the 
day  and  hour  when  Sswanda  played  for  Satan  and  his  friends. 


THE   GOLD   BREAD. 

A    HUNGARIAN    TALE. 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  widow  who  had  a  beautiful 
daughter.  The  mother  was  modest  and  humble  j  the  daugh- 
ter, Marienka,  was  pride  itself.  She  had  suitors  from  all 
sides,  but  none  satisfied  her ;  the  more  they  tried  to  please 
her,  the  more  she  disdained  them. 

One  night,  when  the  poor  mother  could  not  sleep,  she  took 
her  beads  and  began  to  pray  for  her  dear  child,  who  gave 
her  more  than  one  care.  Marienka  was  asleep  by  her  side. 
As  the  mother  gazed  lovingly  at  her  beautiful  daughter,  Ma- 
rienka laughed  in  her  sleep. 

"  What  a  beautiful  dream  she  must  have  to  laugh  in  this 
way !"  said  the  mother.  Then  she  finished  her  prayer,  hung 
her  beads  on  the  wall,  laid  her  head  on  the  same  pillow  with 
her  daughter,  and  fell  asleep. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  she  in  the  morning,  "  what  did  you 
dream  last  night  that  you  laughed  so  ?" 

"  What  did  I  dream,  mamma  ?  I  dreamed  that  a  nobleman 
came  here  for  me  in  a  copper  coach,  and  that  he  put  a  ring 
on  my  finger  set  with  a  stone  that  sparkled  like  the  stars. 
And  when  I  entered  the  church,  the  people  had  eyes  for  no 
one  but  the  blessed  Virgin  and  me." 

"  My  daughter,  my  daughter,  that  was  a  proud  dream !" 
said  the  mother,  shaking  her  head.  But  Marienka  went  out 
singing. 

The  same  day  a  wagon  entered  the  yard.     A  handsome 


128  Fairy  Book. 

young  farmer  in  good  circumstances  came  to  ask  Marienka 
to  share  a  peasant's  bread  with  him.  The  mother  was  pleased 
with  the  suitor,  but  the  proud  Marienka  refused  him,  saying, 
"  Though  you  should  come  in  a  copper  coach,  and  put  a  ring 
on  my  ringer  set  with  a  stone  that  sparkled  like  the  stars,  I 
would  not  have  you  for  a  husband."  And  the  farmer  went 
away  storming  at  Marienka's  pride. 

The  next  night  the  mother  waked,  took  her  beads,  and 
prayed  still  more  earnestly  for  her  daughter,  when  behold ! 
Marienka  laughed  again  as  she  was  sleeping. 

"  I  wonder  what  she  is  dreaming,"  said  the  mother,  who 
prayed,  unable  to  sleep. 

"  My  dear  child,"  she  said  the  next  morning,  "  what  did 
you  dream  last  night  that  you  laughed  aloud  ?" 

"  What  did  I  dream,  mamma  ?  I  dreamed  that  a  nobleman 
came  here  for  me  in  a  silver  coach,  and  that  he  offered  me  a 
golden  diadem.  And  when  I  entered  the  church,  the  people 
looked  at  me  more  than  they  did  at  the  blessed  Virgin." 

"Hush!  you  are  blaspheming.  Pray,  my  daughter,  pray 
that  you  may  not  fall  into  temptation." 

But  Marienka  ran  away  to  escape  her  mother's  sermon. 

The  same  day  a  carriage  entered  the  yard.  A  young  lord 
came  to  entreat  Marienka  to  share  a  nobleman's  bread  with 
him. 

"  It  is  a  great  honor,"  said  the  mother ;  but  vanity  is  blind. 

"  Though  you  should  come  in  a  silver  coach,"  said  Marien- 
ka to  the  new  suitor,  "  and  should  offer  me  a  golden  diadem, 
I  would  not  have  you  for  a  husband." 

"  Take  care,  my  child,"  said  the  poor  mother ;  "  pride  is  a 
device  of  the  Evil  One." 

"  Mothers  never  know  what  they  are  saying,"  thought  Mari- 
enka, and  she  went  out  shrugging  her  shoulders. 

The  third  night  the  mother  could  not  sleep  for  anxiety.    As 


The  Gold  Bread.  129 

she  lay  awake,  praying  for  her  daughter,  behold !  Marienka 
burst  into  a  loud  fit  of  laughter. 

"  Oh !"  said  the  mother,  "  what  can  the  unhappy  child  be 
dreaming  now  ?"  And  she  continued  to  pray  till  daylight. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  she  in  the  morning,  "  what  did  you 
dream  last  night  ?" 

"  You  will  be  angry  again  if  I  tell  you,"  answered  Marienka, 

"  No,  no,"  replied  the  mother ;  "  tell  me.". 

"  I  dreamed  that  a  noble  lord,  with  a  great  train  of  attend- 
ants, came  to  ask  me  in  marriage.  He  was  in  a  golden  coach, 
and  he  brought  me  a  dress  of  gold  lace.  And  when  I  entered 
the  church,  the  people  looked  at  nobody  but  me." 

The  mother  clasped  her  hands.  Marienka,  half  dressed, 
sprang  from  the  bed  and  ran  into  the  next  room,  to  avoid  a 
lecture  that  was  tiresome  to  her. 

The  same  day  three  coaches  entered  the  yard,  one  of  cop- 
per, one  of  silver,  and  one  of  gold ;  the  first  drawn  by  two 
horses,  the  second  by  four,  and  the  third  by  eight,  all  capari- 
soned with  gold  and  pearls.  From  the  copper  and  silver 
coaches  alighted  pages  dressed  in  scarlet  breeches  and  green 
jackets  and  cloaks,  while  from  the  golden  coach  stepped  a 
handsome  nobleman  all  dressed  in  gold.  He  entered  the 
house,  and,  bending  one  knee  on  the  ground,  asked  the  moth- 
er for  her  daughter's  hand. 

"  What  an  honor !"  thought  the  mother. 

"  My  dream  has  come  to  pass,"  said  Marienka.  "  You  see, 
mother,  that,  as  usual,  I  was  right  and  you  were  wrong." 

She  ran  to  her  chamber,  tied  the  betrothal  knot,  and  offered 
it  smilingly  as  a  pledge  of  her  faith  to  the  handsome  lord,  who, 
on  his  side,  put  a  ring  on  her  finger  set  with  a  stone  that 
sparkled  like  the  stars,  and  presented  her  with  a  golden  dia- 
dem and  a  dress  of  gold  lace. 

The  proud  girl  ran  to  her  room  to  dress  for  the  ceremony, 
F2 


1 3o 


Fairy  Book. 


while  the  mother,  still  anxious,  said  to  the  bridegroom,  "  My 
good  sir,  what  bread  do  you  offer  my  daughter  ?" 

"  Among  us,"  said  he,  "  the  bread  is  of  copper,  silver,  and 
gold  :  che  can  take  her  choice." 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?"  thought  the  mother.  But  Mari- 
enka  had  no  anxiety ;  she  returned  as  beautiful  as  the  sun, 
took  her  lover's  arm,  and  set  out  for  the  church  without  ask- 
ing her  mother's  blessing.  The  poor  woman  was  left  to  pray 


alone  on  the  threshold ;  and  when  Marienka  returned  and 
entered  the  carriage,  she  did  not  even  turn  round  to  look  at 
her  mother  or  to  bid  her  a  last  farewell. 


The  Gold  Bread.  131 

The  eight  horses  set  off  at  a  gallop,  and  did  not  stop  till 
they  reached  a  huge  rock,  in  which  there  was  a  hole  as  large 
as  the  gate  of  a  city.  The  horses  plunged  into  the  darkness, 
the  earth  trembled,  and  the  rock  cracked  and  crumbled. 
Marienka  seized  her  husband's  hand. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  my  fair  one ;  in  a  moment  it  will  be 
light" 

All  at  once  a  thousand  lights  waved  in  the  air.  The  dwarfs 
of  the  mountain,  each  with  a  torch  in  his  hand,  came  to  salute 
their  lord,  the  King  of  the  Mines.  Marienka  learned  for  the 
first  time  her  husband's  name.  Whether  he  was  a  spirit  of 
good  or  of  evil,  at  least  he  was  so  rich  that  she  did  not  regret 
her  choice. 

They  emerged  from  the  darkness,  and  advanced  through 
bleached  forests  and  mountains  that  raised  their  pale  and 
gloomy  summits  to  the  skies.  Firs,  beeches,  birches,  oaks, 
rocks,  all  were  of  lead.  At  the  end  of  the  forest  stretched  a 
vast  meadow,  the  grass  of  which  was  of  silver ;  and  at  the 
bottom  of  the  meadow  was  a  castle  of  gold,  inlaid  with  dia- 
monds and  rubies.  The  carriage  stopped  before  the  door, 
and  the  King  of  the  Mines  offered  his  hand  to  his  bride,  say- 
ing, "  My  fair  one,  all  that  you  see  is  yours." 

Marienka  was  delighted.  But  it  is  impossible  to  make  so 
long  a  journey  without  being  hungry ;  and  it  was  with  pleas- 
ure, therefore,  that  she  saw  the  mountain  dwarfs  bring  in  a 
table,  every  thing  on  which  glittered  with  gold,  silver,  and 
precious  stones.  The  dishes  were  marvelous — side-dishes  of 
emeralds,  and  roasts  of  gold  on  silver  salvers.  Every  one  ate 
heartily  except  the  bride,  who  begged  her  husband  for  a  little 
bread. 

"  Bring  the  copper  bread,"  said  the  King  of  the  Mines. 

Marienka  could  not  eat  it. 

"  Bring  the  silver  bread,"  said  he. 


132  Fairy  Book. 

Marienka  could  not  eat  it. 

"  Bring  the  gold  bread,"  said  he,  at  length. 

Marienka  could  not  eat  it. 

"  My  fair  one,"  said  the  King  of  the  Mines, "  I  am  very 
sorry ;  but  what  can  I  offer  you  ?  We  have  no  other  bread." 

The  bride  burst  into  tears.  Her  husband  laughed  aloud : 
his  heart  was  of  metal,  like  his  kingdom. 

"  Weep,  if  you  like,"  he  cried ;  "  it  will  do  you  no  good. 
What  you  wished  for  you  possess :  eat  the  bread  that  you 
have  chosen." 

It  was  thus  that  the  rich  Marienka  lived  in  her  castle,  dy- 
ing of  hunger,  and  seeking  in  vain  for  a  root  to  allay  the  tor- 
ture that  was  consuming  her.  God  had  humbled  her  by 
granting  her  prayer. 

Three  days  in  the  year,  the  Rogation  Days,  when  the 
ground  half  opens  to  receive  the  fruitful  rain  sent  by  the 
Lord,  Marienka  returns  to  the  earth.  Dressed  in  rags,  pale 
and  wrinkled,  she  begs  from  door  to  door,  too  happy  when 
any  one  throws  her  a  few  crusts,  and  when  she  receives  as 
alms  from  the  poor  what  she  lacks  in  her  palace  of  gold — a 
little  bread  and  a  little  pity. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  NOSES. 

A    BOHEMIAN    TALE. 

AT  Dewitz,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Prague,  there  once  lived 
a  rich  and  whimsical  old  farmer,  who  had  a  beautiful  daugh- 
ter. The  students  of  Prague,  of  whom  there  were  at  that  time 
twenty-five  thousand,  often  walked  in  the  direction  of  Dewitz, 
and  more  than  one  of  them  offered  to  follow  the  plow  in  hopes 
of  becoming  the  son-in-law  of  the  farmer.  The  first  condition 
that  the  cunning  peasant  set  on  each  new  servant  was  this  :  "  I 
engage  you,"  he  would  say,  "  for  a  year,  that  is,  till  the  cuckoo 
sings  the  return  of  spring  ;  but  if,  from  now  till  then,  you  say 
once  that  you  are  not  satisfied,  I  will  cut  off  the  end  of  your 
nose.  I  give  you  the  same  right  over  me,"  he  added,  laugh- 
ing. And  he  did  as  he  said.  Prague  was  full  of  students 
with  the  end  of  their  nose  glued  on,  which  did  not  prevent  an 
ugly  scar,  and,  still  less,  bad  jokes.  To  return  from  the  farm 
disfigured  and  ridiculed  was  well  calculated  to  cool  the  warm- 
est passion. 

A  young  man  by  the  name  of  Coranda,  somewhat  ungainly 
in  manner,  but  cool,  adroit,  and  cunning,  which  are  not  bad 
aids  in  making  one's  fortune,  took  it  in  his  head  to  try  the  ad- 
venture. The  farmer  received  him  with  his  usual  good  na- 
ture, and,  the  bargain  made,  sent  him  to  the  field  to  work.  At 
breakfast  time  the  other  servants  were  called,  but  good  care 
was  taken  to  forget  Coranda.  At  dinner  it  was  the  same. 
Coranda  gave  himself  no  trouble  about  it.  He  went  to  the 
house,  and,  while  the  farmer's  wife  was  feeding  the  chickens, 
unhooked  an  enormous  ham  from  the  kitchen  rafters,  took  a 


134  Fairy  Book. 

huge  loaf  from  the  cupboard,  and  went  back  to  the  fields  to 
dine  and  take  a  nap. 

"  Are  you  satisfied  ?"  cried  the  farmer,  when  he  returned  at 
night. 

"  Perfectly  satisfied,"  said  Coranda ;  "  I  have  dined  better 
than  you  have." 

At  that  instant  the  farmer's  wife  came  rushing  in,  crying 
that  her  ham  was  gone.  Coranda  laughed,  and  the  farmer 
turned  pale. 

"  Are  you  not  satisfied  ?"  asked  Coranda. 

"  A  ham  is  only  a  ham,"  answered  his  master.  "  Such  a 
trifle  does  not  trouble  me."  But  after  that  time  he  took  good 
care  not  to  leave  the  student  fasting. 

Sunday  came.  The  farmer  and  his  wife  seated  them- 
selves in  the  wagon  to  go  to  church,  saying  to  Coranda,  "  It 
is  your  business  to  cook  the  dinner.  Cut  up  the  piece  of 
meat  you  see  yonder,  with  onions,  carrots,  leeks,  and  pars- 
ley, and  boil  them  all  together  in  the  great  pot  over  the 
kitchen  fire." 

"  Very  well,"  answered  Coranda. 

There  was  a  little  pet  dog  at  the  farm-house  by  the  name 
of  Parsley.  Coranda  killed  him,  skinned  him,  cut  him  up  with 
the  meat  and  vegetables,  and  put  the  whole  to  boil  over  the 
kitchen  fire.  When  the  farmer's  wife  returned,  she  called  her 
favorite  ;  but,  alas  !  she  saw  nothing  but  a  bloody  skin  hang- 
ing by  the  window. 

"  What  have  you  done  ?"  said  she  to  Coranda. 

"  What  you  ordered  me,  mistress.  I  have  boiled  the  meat, 
onions,  carrots,  and  leeks,  and  parsley  in  the  bargain." 

"  Wicked  wretch !"  cried  the  farmer,  "  had  you  the  heart 
to  kill  the  innocent  creature  that  was  the  joy  of  the  house  ?" 

"  Are  you  not  satisfied  ?"  said  Coranda,  taking  his  knife 
from  his  pocket. 


The  Story  of  the  Noses. 


'35 


"  I  did  not  not  say  that,"  returned  the  farmer.  "  A  dead 
dog  is  nothing  but  a  dead  dog."  But  he  sighed. 

A  few  days  after,  the  farmer  and  his  wife  went  to  market. 
Fearing  their  terrible  servant,  they  said  to  him, "  Stay  at  home, 
and  do  exactly  what  you  see  others  do." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Coranda. 

There  was  an  old  shed  in  the  yard,  the  roof  of  which  was 
falling  to  pieces.  The  carpenters  came  to  repair  it,  and  be- 
gan, as  usual,  by  tearing  down  the  roof.  Coranda  took  a  lad- 
der and  mounted  the 
roof  of  the  house,  which 
was  quite  new.  Shin- 
gles, lath,  nails,  and 
tiles,  he  tore  off  every 
thing,  and  scattered 
them  all  to  the  winds. 
When  the  farmer  re- 
turned, the  house  was 
open  to  the  sky. 

"Villain!"  said  he, 
"what  new  trick  have 
you  played  me  ?" 

"  I  have  obeyed  you, 
master,"  answered  Co- 
randa. "You  told  me 
to  do  exactly  what  I 
saw  others  do.  Are  you 
not  satisfied?"  And  he 
took  out  his  knife. 

"  Satisfied  !"  return- 
ed the   farmer;  "why 
should  I  not  be  satisfied  ?     A  few  shingles  more  or  less  will 
not  ruin  me."     But  he  sighed. 


136  Fairy  Book. 

Night  come,  the  farmer  and  his  wife  said  to  each  other  that 
it  was  high  time  to  get  rid  of  this  incarnate  demon.  As  is 
always  the  case  with  sensible  people,  they  never  did  any  thing 
without  consulting  their  daughter,  it  being  the  custom  in  Bo- 
hemia to  think  that  children  always  have  more  wit  than  their 
parents. 

"  Father,"  said  Helen, "  I  will  hide  in  the  great  pear-tree 
early  in  the  morning,  and  call  like  the  cuckoo.  You  can  tell 
Coranda  that  the  year  is  up,  since  the  cuckoo  is  singing ;  pay 
him,  and  send  him  away." 

Early  in  the  morning  the  plaintive  cry  of  the  cuckoo  was 
heard  through  the  fields.  The  farmer  seemed  surprised. 
"  Well,  my  boy,  spring  is  come,"  said  he.  "  Do  you  hear  the 
cuckoo  singing  yonder  ?  I  will  pay  you,  and  we  will  part  good 
friends." 

"  A  cuckoo !"  said  Coranda ;  "  that  is  a  bird  which  I  have 
always  wanted  to  see." 

He  ran  to  the  tree  and  shook  it  with  all  his  might,  when 
behold  !  a  young  girl  fell  from  the  branches,  fortunately  more 
frightened  than  hurt. 

"  Villain  !"  cried  the  farmer. 

"  Are  you  not  satisfied  ?"  said  Coranda,  opening  his  knife. 

"  Wretch !  you  kill  my  daughter,  and  you  think  that  I  ought 
to  be  satisfied !  I  am  furious.  Begone,  if  you  would  not 
die  by  my  hand !" 

"  I  will  go  when  I  have  cut  off  your  nose,"  said  Coranda. 
"  I  have  kept  my  word,  do  you  keep  yours." 

"  Stop !"  cried  the  farmer,  putting  his  hand  before  his  face  • 
"  you  will  surely  let  me  redeem  my  nose  ?" 

"  It  depends  on  what  you  offer,"  said  Coranda. 

"  Will  you  take  ten  sheep  for  it  ?" 

"  No." 

"Ten  cows?" 


The  Story  of  the  Noses.  137 

"  No  ;  I  would  rather  cut  off  your  nose."  And  he  sharp- 
ened his  knife  on  the  door-step. 

"  Father,"  said  Helen,  "  the  fault  was  mine ;  it  belongs  to 
me  to  repair  it  Coranda,  will  you  take  my  hand  instead  of 
my  father's  nose  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Coranda. 

"I  make  one  condition,"  said  the  young  girl.  "We  will 
make  the  same  bargain ;  the  first  one  of  us  that  is  not  satis- 
fied after  marriage  shall  have  his  nose  cut  off  by  the  other." 

"  Good,"  replied  Coranda.  "  I  would  rather  it  was  the 
tongue  •  but  that  will  come  next." 

Never  was  a  finer  wedding  seen  at  Prague,  and  never  was 
there  a  happier  household.  Coranda  and  the  beautiful  Helen 
were  a  model  pair.  The  husband  and  wife  were  never  heard 
to  complain  of  each  other ;  they  loved  with  drawn  swords, 
and,  thanks  to  their  ingenious  bargain,  kept  for  long  years 
both  their  love  and  their  noses. 


THE    THREE   CITRONS. 

A    NEAPOLITAN  TALE. 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  lived  a  king  who  was  called  the 
King  of  the  Vermilion  Towers.  He  had  but  one  son,  whom 
he  loved  as  the  apple  of  his  eye,  and  who  was  the  only  hope 
of  a  royal  line  about  to  become  extinct.  The  old  king's  whole 
ambition  was  to  marry  this  illustrious  prince — to  find  him  a 
princess  at  once  handsome,  noble,  young,  and  rich.  He  could 
think  of  nothing  but  this  wished-for  marriage. 

Unhappily,  among  all  the  virtues  in  which  the  heir  to  a 
crown  is  never  lacking,  Carlino,  for  that  was  the  young  prince's 
name,  had  the  trifling  fault  of  being  shyer  than  a  deer.  He 
shook  his  head  and  fled  to  the  woods  at  the  mere  sound  of 
a  woman's  name,  to  the  great  grief  of  his  father,  who  was  in 
despair  at  seeing  his  family  about  to  die  out.  But  his  grief 
was  in  vain  :  nothing  touched  the  heart  of  Carlino.  The  tears 
of  a  father,  the  prayers  of  a  whole  people,  the  interest  of  the 
state,  nothing  could  melt  this  stony  heart.  Twenty  preachers 
had  wasted  their  eloquence  and  thirty  senators  their  Latin  in 
reasoning  with  him.  To  be  stubborn  is  one  of  the  privileges 
of  royalty,  as  Carlino  had  known  from  his  birth,  and  he  would 
have  thought  himself  dishonored  by  being  second  to  a  mule 
in  obstinacy. 

But  more  things  often  happen  in  an  hour  than  in  a  hundred 
years,  and  no  one  can  say  with  safety,  "  This  is  a  road  that  I 
shall  never  travel."  One  morning  at  breakfast,  as  Carlino,  in- 
stead of  listening  to  his  father's  sermon,  was  amusing  himself 


The  Three  Citrons.  139 

by  watching  the  flies  buzzing  in  the  air,  he  forgot  that  he  had 
a  knife  in  his  hand,  and  pricked  his  finger  in  a  gesture  of  im- 
patience. The  blood  gushed  forth  and  fell  into  a  plate  of 
cream  that  had  just  been  handed  to  him,  where  it  made  a 
curious  mixture  of  white  and  red.  Either  by  chance  or  by 
the  punishment  of  Heaven,  the  prince  was  instantly  seized 
with  the  maddest  caprice  that  could  be  imagined. 

"  Sir,"  said  he  to  his  father,  "  if  I  do  not  soon  find  a  woman 
as  white  and  red  as  this  cream  dyed  with  my  blood,  I  am 
lost.  This  wonder  must  exist  somewhere.  I  love  her ;  I  am 
dying  for  her ;  I  must  have  her ;  I  will  have  her.  To  a  reso- 
lute heart  nothing  is  impossible.  If  you  would  have  me  live, 
let  me  go  in  search  of  her,  or  before  to-morrow  I  shall  be 
dead  of  loneliness." 

The  poor  King  of  the  Vermilion  Towers  was  thunder- 
struck at  this  folly.  It  seemed  to  him  that  his  palace  was 
crumbling  over  his  head ;  he  turned  red  and  pale  by  turns, 
stammered,  wept,  and  finally  cried,  in  a  voice  broken  with 
sobs, 

"  Oh,  my  child,  the  staff  of  my  old  age,  my  heart's  blood, 
the  life  of  my  soul,  what  an  idea  have  you  taken  into  your 
head  !  Have  you  lost  your  reason  ?  Yesterday  you  almost 
made  me  die  of  sorrow  by  refusing  to  marry ;  to-day  you  are 
about  to  drive  me  from  the  world  by  another  piece  of  folly. 
Whither  would  you  go,  unhappy  boy  ?  Why  leave  your  home, 
where  you  have  been  born  and  bred  ?  Do  you  know  to  what 
danger  and  suffering  the  traveler  exposes  himself?  Drive 
away  these  perilous  fancies,  and  stay  with  me,  my  child,  if 
you  would  not  deprive  me  of  life  and  destroy  your  kingdom 
and  house  at  one  blow." 

All  these  words,  and  others  equally  wise,  had  no  more  effect 
than  an  official  harangue.  Carlino,  his  eye  fixed  and  his  brow 
bent,  listened  to  nothing  but  his  passion.  All  that  was  said 


140  Fairy  Book. 

to  him  went  in  at  one  ear  and  out  at  the  other ;  it  was  elo- 
quence cast  to  the  winds. 

When  the  old  king,  worn  out  with  prayers  and  tears,  per- 
ceived that  it  was  easier  to  melt  a  leaden  weather-cock  on  its 
steeple  than  a  spoiled  child  in  pursuit  of  his  whim,  he  heaved 
a  deep  sigh  and  determined  to  let  Carlino  go ;  and  giving 
him  counsels  to  which  he  scarcely  listened,  several  bags  rilled 
with  guineas,  which  were  rather  better  received  than  the  coun- 
sels, and  two  trusty  servants,  the  good  king  clasped  his  rebel- 
lious son  to  his  heart  and  bade  him  adieu,  then  mounted  to 
the  top  of  the  great  tower  to  follow  the  ungrateful  boy  with 
his  eyes  as  far  as  he  could  see.  When  Carlino  at  last  disap- 
peared in  the  distance,  the  poor  monarch  thought  that  his 
heart  was  breaking  :  he  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  wept, 
not  like  a  child,  but  like  a  father.  The  tears  of  a  child  are 
like  the  summer  rain,  large  drops  that  are  soon  dried  up  ;  the 
tears  of  a  father  are  like  the  autumnal  rain,  which  falls  slowly 
and  soaks  into  the  ground. 

While  the  king  wept,  Carlino,  mounted  on  a  fine  horse, 
rode  on  gayly,  his  plume  waving  in  the  wind,  like  a  hero 
about  to  conquer  the  world.  To  find  what  he  sought  was  not 
an  easy  task,  however,  and  his  journey  lasted  more  than  one 
day.  He  crossed  mountains  and  valleys,  traversed  kingdoms, 
duchies,  earldoms,  and  baronies,  and  visited  cities,  villages, 
castles,  and  cottages,  gazing  at  all  the  women,  and  gazed  at 
by  them  in  turn ;  but  all  in  vain  :  the  treasure  that  he  sought 
was  not  to  be  found  in  old  Europe. 

At  the  end  of  four  months  he  reached  Marseilles,  resolved 
to  embark  for  the  Indies.  At  the  sight  of  the  raging  sea, 
however,  his  brave  and  faithful  servants  were  seized  with  an 
epidemic,  called  by  the  physicians  stay-at-homeativeness  in 
Hebrew,  and  the  headache  in  the  feet  in  Latin.  To  the  great 
regret  of  these  honest  people,  they  were  forced  to  quit  their 


The  Three  Citrons.  141 

good  master  and  remain  quietly  on  shore,  wrapped  in  their 
warm  blankets,  while  Carlino,  embarked  on  a  frail  bark,  braved 
the  winds  and  waves. 

Nothing  can  stop  a  heart  hurried  away  by  passion.  The 
prince  roamed  over  Egypt,  India,  and  China,  going  from  prov- 
ince to  province,  from  city  to  city,  from  house  to  house,  and 
from  cabin  to  cabin,  every  where  seeking  the  original  of  the 
fair  image  that  was  engraved  on  his  heart,  but  in  vain.  He 
saw  women  of  all  colors  and  shades,  brown,  blonde,  olive, 
sandy,  white,  yellow,  red,  and  black,  but  he  did  not  see  her 
whom  he  loved. 

Always  seeking  and  never  finding,  Carlino  at  last  reached 
the  end  of  the  world.  There  was  nothing  more  before  him 
but  the  ocean  and  the  sky.  His  hopes  were  at  an  end ;  his 
dream  had  vanished.  As  he  was  walking  despairingly  up  and 
down  the  sea-shore,  he  spied  an  old  man  warming  himself  in 
the  sun.  The  prince  asked  him  if  there  was  nothing  beyond  \ 
these  waves  that  stretched  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach. 

"  No,"  said  the  old  man  ;  "  no  one  has  ever  discovered  any 
thing  in  this  shoreless  ocean,  or,  at  least,  those  who  have  ven- 
tured on  it  have  never  returned  to  tell  the  story.  I  remem- 
ber, however,  having  heard  the  old  men  among  us  say,  when  I 
was  a  child,"  he  added,  "  that  their  fathers  had  told  them  that 
yonder,  a  long,  long  way  off,  far  beyond  the  horizon,  was  the 
Island  of  the  Fates ;  but  woe  to  the  imprudent  man  who  ap- 
proaches these  merciless  fairies ;  he  is  struck  with  death  at 
their  sight." 

"  What  does  that  matter  ?"  cried  Carlino  ;  "  I  would  face 
death  itself  to  gain  my  wishes." 

A  bark  lay  by  the  strand.  The  prince  sprang  on  board 
and  unfurled  the  sail.  The  wind,  which  blew  off  the  shore, 
hurried  forward  the  frail  craft,  the  land  disappeared,  and  Car- 
lino  found  himself  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean.  In  vain  he 


142  Fairy  Book. 

gazed  about  him ;  there  was  nothing  but  the  sea — the  sea  ev- 
ery where ;  In  vain  the  bark  bounded  over  the  foaming  waves 
with  the  speed  of  lightning,  like  a  steed  with  mane  floating  on 
the  wind ;  there  was  nothing  but  the  sea — the  sea  every  where. 
Billows  followed  billows,  the  hours  passed  one  after  another, 
the  day  declined,  and  the  solitude  and  silence  seemed  to  deep- 
en around  Carlino,  when  all  at  once  he  uttered  a  cry ;  he  saw 
a  black  speck  in  the  distance.  At  the  same  instant  the  bark, 
shooting  ahead  like  an  arrow,  struck  upon  the  sand  at  the 
foot  of  huge  rocks,  which  raised  their  dark  summits,  notched 
and  worn  by  time,  to  the  skies.  Fate  had  thrown  Carlino 
upon  that  strand  from  which  none  had  ever  returned. 

To  climb  this  wall  was  not  an  easy  matter ;  there  was  nei- 
ther road  nor  path ;  and  when  Carlino,  after  long  efforts,  with 
torn  hands  and  wearied  limbs,  at  last  succeeded  in  reaching 
a  level  spot,  what  he  found  was  not  calculated  to  reassure  him. 
He  saw  nothing  but  glaciers  piled  upon  each  other — black, 
damp  rocks  rising  from  the  midst  of  the  snows — not  a  tree,  not 
a  blade  of  grass,  not  a  bit  of  moss  :  it  was  the  picture  of  win- 
ter and  death.  The  only  sign  of  life  in  this  desert  was  a 
wretched  hovel,  the  roof  of  which  was  loaded  with  great  stones 
in  order  to  resist  the  fury  of  the  winds.  The  prince  approach- 
ed the  hut,  and  was  about  to  enter  it,  when  he  stopped  short, 
struck  with  surprise  and  terror  at  the  spectacle  which  present- 
ed itself. 

At  the  end  of  the  room  was  a  great  web  of  cloth,  on  which 
were  pictured  all  the  conditions  of  life.  There  were  kings, 
soldiers,  formers,  and  shepherds,  with  ladies  richly  dressed, 
and  peasant  women  spinning  by  their  side.  At  the  bottom 
boys  and  girls  were  dancing  gayly,  holding  each  other  by  the 
hand.  Before  the  web  walked  the  mistress  of  the  house — an 
old  woman,  if  the  name  woman  can  be  given  to  a  skeleton 
with  bones  scarcely  hidden  by  a  skin  yellower  and  more 


The  Three  Citrons.  143 

transparent  than  wax.  Like  a  spider  ready  to  pounce  upon 
its  prey,  the  old  woman,  armed  with  a  great  pair  of  shears, 
peered  at  all  the  figures  with  a  jealous  eye,  then  suddenly  fell 
upon  the  web  and  cut  it  at  random,  when  lo  !  a  piercing  wail 
rose  from  it  that  would  have  moved  a  heart  of  stone.  The 
tears  of  children,  the  sobs  of  mothers,  the  despair  of  lovers, 
the  last  murmurs  of  old  age,  all  human  sorrow  seemed  min- 
gled in  this  wail.  At  the  sound  the  old  woman  burst  into  a 
loud  laugh,  and  her  hideous  face  lighted  up  with  ferocious  de- 
light while  an  invisible  hand  mended  the  web,  eternally  de- 
stroyed and  eternally  repaired. 

The  hag,  again  opening  her  shears,  was  already  approach- 
ing the  web  anew,  when  she  saw  the  shadow  of  Carlino. 

"  Fly,  unhappy  man,"  cried  she,  without  turning  round  ;  "  I 
know  what  brings  you  here,  but  I  can  do  nothing  for  you.  Go 
to  my  sister ;  perhaps  she  will  give  you  what  you  desire.  She 
is  Life— I  am  Death." 

Carlino  did  not  wait  for  a  second  bidding.  He  rushed  on- 
ward, too  happy  to  escape  this  scene  of  horror. 

The  landscape  soon  changed.  Carlino  found  himself  in  a 
fertile  valley.  On  every  side  were  harvests,  blossoming  fields, 
vines  loaded  with  grapes,  and  olive-trees  full  of  fruit.  In  the 
thick  shade  of  a  fig-tree,  by  a  running  spring,  sat  a  blind 
woman  unrolling  the  last  gold  and  silver  thread  from  a  spin- 
dle. Around  her  lay  several  distaffs,  full  of  different  kinds 
of  materials  ready  for  spinning — flax,  hemp,  wool,  silk,  and 
others. 

When  she  had  finished  her  task,  the  fairy  stretched  out  hei 
trembling  hand  at  random,  took  the  first  distaff  that  came, 
and  began  to  spin. 

Carlino  bowed  respectfully  to  the  lady,  and  began  with 
emotion  to  tell  her  the  story  of  his  pilgrimage,  when  the  fairy 
stopped  him  at  the  first  word. 


144  Fairy  Book. 

"  My  child,"  said  she,  "  I  can  do  nothing  for  you.  I  am 
only  a  poor  blind  woman  that  does  not  even  know  herself 
what  she  is  doing.  This  distaff,  which  I  have  taken  at  ran- 
dom, decides  the  fate  of  all  who  are  born  while  I  am  spinning 
it.  Riches  or  poverty,  happiness  or  misfortune,  are  attached 
to  this  thread  that  I  can  not  see.  The  slave  of  destiny,  I  can 
create  nothing.  Go  to  my  other  sister ;  perhaps  she  will  give 
you  what  you  desire.  She  is  Birth ;  I  am  Life." 

"  Thanks,  madam,"  answered  Carlino  ;  and,  with  a  light 
heart,  he  ran  to  find  the  youngest  of  the  Fates.  He  soon  dis- 
covered her,  fresh  and  smiling  as  the  spring.  Every  thing 
about  her  was  taking  root  and  germinating :  the  corn  was 
bursting  through  the  earth  and  putting  forth  its  green  blades 
from  the  brown  furrows  ;  the  orange-blossoms  were  opening ; 
the  buds  on  the  trees  were  unfolding  their  pink  scales ;  the 
chickens,  scarcely  feathered,  were  running  round  the  anxious 
hen,  and  the  lambs  were  clinging  to  their  mother.  It  was  the 
first  smile  of  life. 

The  fairy  received  the  prince  with 
kindness.  After  listening  to  him  with- 
out laughing  at  his  folly,  she  asked  him 
to  sup  with  her,  and  at  dessert  gave 
him  three  citrons,  and  a  beautiful  knife 
with  a  mother-of-pearl  handle. 

"  Carlino,"  said  she,  "  you  can  now  return  to  your  father's 
house :  the  prize  is  gained ;  you  have  found  what  you  have 
been  seeking.  Go,  then,  and  when  you  have  reached  your 
kingdom,  stop  at  the  first  fountain  that  you  see,  and  cut  one 
of  these  citrons.  A  fairy  will  come  forth,  who  will  ask  you  for 
a  drink.  Give  her  the  water  quickly,  or  she  will  slip  through 
your  fingers  like  quicksilver.  If  the  second  escapes  you  in 
the  same  way,  have  an  eye  to  the  last ;  give  her  a  drink  in- 
stantly, and  you  will  have  a  wife  according  to  your  heart." 


The  Three  Citrons.  145 

Intoxicated  with  joy,  the  prince  kissed  again  and  again 
the  charming  hand  that  crowned  his  wishes.  He  was  more 
happy  than  wise,  and  little  deserved  to  succeed ;  but  fairies 
have  their  caprices,  and  Fortune  is  always  a  fairy. 

It  was  a  long  distance  from  the  end  of  the  world  to  the 
kingdom  of  the  Vermilion  Towers.  Carlino  experienced  more 
than  one  storm  and  braved  more  than  one  danger  on  his  way 
across  land  and  sea,  but  at  last,  after  a  long  voyage  and  a 
thousand  trials,  he  reached  his  father's  country  with  his  three 
citrons,  which  he  had  treasured  like  the  apple  of  his  eye. 

He  was  not  more  than  two  hours'  journey  from  the  royal 
castle  when  he  entered  a  dense  forest,  where  he  had  hunted 
many  a  time.  A  transparent  fountain,  bordered  with  wild 
flowers  and  shaded  by  the  trembling  leaves  of  the  aspen,  in- 
vited the  traveler  to  repose.  Carlino  seated  himself  on  a 
carpet  of  verdure  enameled  with  daisies,  and,  taking  his  knife, 
cut  one  of  the  citrons. 

All  at  once,  a  young  girl  as  white  as  milk  and  as  red  as 
a  strawberry  darted  past  him  like  lightning.  "Give  me  a 
drink !"  said  she,  pausing  an  instant. 

"  How  beautiful  she  is !"  cried  the  prince,  so  ravished  by 
her  charms  that  he  forgot  the  advice  of  the  Fate.  He  paid 
dearly  for  it :  in  a  second  the  fairy  had  disappeared.  Carlino 
smote  his  breast  in  despair,  and  stood  as  astonished  as  a  child 
that  sees  the  running  water  slip  through  his  fingers. 

He  tried  to  calm  himself,  and  cut  the  next  citron  with  a 
trembling  hand  ,  but  the  second  fairy  was  even  more  beauti- 
ful and  more  fleeting  than  her  sister.  While  Carlino  admired 
her,  wonder-struck,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  she  took  flight. 

This  time  the  prince  burst  into  tears,  and  wept  so  bitterly 
that  he  seemed  a  part  of  the  fountain.  He  sobbed,  tore  his 
hair,  and  called  down  all  the  maledictions  of  heaven  on  his 
head. 

G 


146  Fairy  Book. 

"  Fool  that  I  am  !"  he  cried ;  "  twice  I  have  let  her  escape 
as  though  my  hands  were  tied.  Fool  that  I  am,  I  deserve 
my  fate.  When  I  should  have  run  like  a  greyhound,  I  stood 
still  like  a  post.  A  fine  piece  of  business !  But  all  is  not 
lost :  the  third  time  conquers.  I  will  try  the  magic  knife 
once  more,  and  if  it  deceives  me  this  time  I  will  use  it  on 
myself." 

He  cut  the  last  citron.  The  third  fairy  darted  forth,  and 
said,  like  her  companions, "  Give  me  a  drink !"  But  the  prince 
had  learned  a  lesson.  He  instantly  gave  her  the  water,  when 
lo  !  a  beautiful,  slender  young  girl,  as  white  as  milk,  with 
cheeks  like  roses,  stood  before  him,  looking  like  a  freshly- 
opened  rose-bud.  She  was  a  marvel  of  beauty  such  as  the 
world  had  never  seen,  as  fresh  as  a  lily  and  as  graceful  as  a 
swan :  her  hair  was  of  brighter  gold  than  the  sun,  her  clear 
blue  eyes  revealed  the  depths  of  her  heart,  her  rosy  lips  seem- 
ed made  only  to  comfort  and  charm  ;  in  a  word,  from  head  to 
foot  she  was  the  most  enchanting  creature  that  had  ever  de- 
scended from  heaven  to  earth.  It  is  a  great  pity  that  we 
have  no  likeness  of  her. 

At  the  sight  of  his  bride  the  prince  almost  lost  his  reason 
from  joy  and  surprise.  He  could  not  understand  how  this 
miracle  of  freshness  and  beauty  had  sprung  from  the  bitter 
rind  of  a  citron. 

"  Am  I  asleep  ?"  he  cried.  "  Am  I  dreaming  ?  If  I  am  the 
sport  of  a  delusion,  for  pity's  sake  do  not  awaken  me." 

The  fairy's  smile  soon  reassured  him.  She  accepted  his 
hand,  and  was  the  first  to  ask  to  repair  to  the  good  King  of 
the  Vermilion  Towers,  who  would  be  so  happy  to  bless  his 
children. 

"  My  love,"  answered  Carlino,  "  I  am  as  impatient  as  you 
to  see  my  father  and  to  prove  to  him  that  I  was  right ;  but  we 
can  not  enter  the  castle  arm  in  arm  like  two  peasants.  You 


The  Three  Citrons.  147 

must  go  like  a  princess ;  you  must  be  received  like  a  queen. 
Wait  for  me  by  this  fountain ;  I  will  run  to  the  palace,  and  re- 
turn in  two  hours  with  a  dress  and  equipage  worthy  of  you." 
Saying  this,  he  tenderly  kissed  her  hand  and  left  her. 

The  young  girl  was  afraid  on  finding  herself  alone  ;  the  cry 
of  a  raven,  the  rustling  of  the  trees,  a  dead  branch  broken  by 
the  wind,  every  thing  frightened  her.  She  looked  tremblingly 
about  her,  and  saw  an  old  oak  by  the  side  of  the  fountain 
whose  huge  trunk  offered  her  a  shelter.  She  climbed  the  tree 
and  hid  herself  in  it  all  but  her  lovely  face,  which,  encircled 
by  the  foliage,  was  reflected  in  the  transparent  fountain  as  in 
a  clear  mirror. 

Now  there  was  a  negress,  by  the  name  of  Lucy,  who  lived 
in  the  neighborhood,  and  who  was  sent  every  day  by  her  mis- 
tress to  the  fountain  for  water.  Lucy  came,  as  usual,  with  her 
pitcher  on  her  shoulder,  and,  just  as  she  was  about  to  fill  it, 
she  spied  the  image  of  the  fairy  in  the  spring.  The  fool,  who 
had  never  seen  herself,  thought  that  the  face  was  her  own. 
"Poor  Lucy!"  she  cried.  "What!  you,  so  fresh  and  beautiful, 
are  forced  by  your  mistress  to  carry  water  like  a  beast  of  bur- 
den !  No,  never !"  And,  in  her  vanity,  she  dashed  the  pitch- 
er to  the  ground  and  returned  home. 

When  her  mistress  asked  her  why  she  had  broken  the  pitch- 
er, the  slave  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  said, "  The  pitcher 
that  goes  often  to  the  well  is  soon  broken."  Upon  this,  her 
mistress  gave  her  a  little  wooden  cask,  and  ordered  her  to  go 
back  immediately  and  fill  it  at  the  fountain. 

The  negress  ran  to  the  spring,  and,  gazing  lovingly  at  the 
beautiful  image  in  the  water,  sighed  and  said, "  No,  I  am  not 
an  ape,  as  I  am  so  often  told ;  I  am  more  beautiful  than  my 
mistress.  Mules  may  carry  casks — not  I !"  She  dashed  the 
cask  on  the  ground,  broke  it  in  a  thousand  pieces,  and  re- 
turned to  her  mistress,  grumbling. 


148  Fairy  Book. 

"  Where  is  the  cask  ?"  asked  her  mistress,  who  was  waiting 
impatiently  for  the  water. 

"  A  mule  ran  against  me  and  knocked  it  down,  and  it  is  all 
broken  to  pieces." 

At  these  words  her  mistress  lost  patience.  Seizing  a 
broom,  she  gave  the  negress  one  of  those  lessons  that  are  not 
soon  forgotten ;  then,  taking  down  a  leathern  bottle  that  was 
hanging  on  the  wall, 

"  Run,  wretched  ape,"  she  said  ;  "  and  if  you  do  not  instant- 
ly bring  this  back  to  me  full  of  water,  I  will  beat  you  within 
an  inch  of  your  life." 

The  negress  took  to  her  heels  in  terror,  and  filled  the  bot- 
tle obediently ;  but  when  it  was  filled  she  stopped  to  look 
once  more  in  the  fountain ;  and  seeing  the  lovely  face  reflect- 
ed there,  "  No  !"  she  cried,  in  a  burst  of  anger — "  no,  I  will 
not  be  a  water-carrier ;  no,  I  was  not  made  to  serve  my  mis- 
tress like  a  dog." 

Saying  this,  she  took  from  her  hair  the  great  pin  that  held 
it,  and  pierced  the  bottle  through  and  through.  The  water 
spouted  out  in  every  direction.  At  the  sight  the  fairy  in  the 
tree  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter.  The  negress  looked  up,  saw 
the  beautiful  stranger,  and  understood  the  whole. 

"  Oh !"  said  she  to  herself, "  so  you  are  the  cause  of  my 
beating ;  no  matter,  you  shall  pay  me  well  for  it."  Then,  rais- 
ing her  voice,  she  called,  in  her  sweetest  tones, "  What  are  you 
doing  up  there,  lovely  lady  ?" 

The  fairy,  who  was  as  good  as  she  was  beautiful,  tried  to 
comfort  the  slave  by  talking  with  her.  The  acquaintance 
was  soon  made ;  an  innocent  soul  is  unsuspicious  in  friend- 
ship. The  fairy,  without  distrust,  told  the  negress  all  that  had 
happened  to  her  and  the  prince,  why  she  was  alone  in  the  for- 
est, and  how  she  was  every  instant  expecting  Carlino  with  a 
grand  equipage  to  conduct  his  bride  to  the  King  of  the  Ver 


The  Three  Citrons. 


149 


milion  Towers,  and  to  marry  her  there  in  the  presence  of  all 
the  court. 

On  hearing  this  story,  the  wicked  and  envious  negress  con- 
ceived an  abominable  idea.  "Madam,"  said  she,  "if  the 
prince  is  coming  with  all  his  suite,  you  must  be  ready  to  meet 
him.  Your  hair  is  all  in  disorder ;  let  me  come  to  you,  and  I 
will  comb  it" 

"  With  pleasure,"  answered  the  fairy,  with  a  gracious  smile, 
as  she  stretched  out  a  little  white  hand,  which  looked,  in 
Lucy's  great  black  paw,  like  a  crystal  mirror  in  an  ebony 
frame. 

No  sooner  had  she  climbed  the  tree  than  the  wicked  slave 


150  Fairy  Book. 

untied  the  fairy's  hair  and  began  to  comb  it ;  then,  all  at 
once,  taking  her  great  hair-pin,  she  pierced  her  to  the  brain. 
Feeling  herself  wounded,  the  fairy  cried,  "  Palomba  !  Palom- 
ba !"  when  she  instantly  turned  to  a  wood-pigeon,  and  flew 
away.  The  horrible  negress  took  her  victim's  place,  and 
stretched  out  her  neck  among  the  foliage,  looking  like  a 
statue  of  jet  in  a  niche  of  emerald. 

Meanwhile  the  prince,  mounted  on  a  magnificent  horse, 
was  riding  thither  at  full  speed,  followed  by  a  long  cavalcade. 
Poor  Carlino  was  astonished  to  find  a  crow  where  he  had  left 
a  swan.  He  almost  lost  his  reason,  his  voice  was  choked 
with  tears,  and  he  gazed  in  all  directions,  hoping  to  see  his 
bride  among  the  foliage.  But  the  negress,  putting  on  a  suffer- 
ing air,  said  to  him,  casting  down  her  eyes,  "  Look  no  farther, 
my  prince ;  a  wicked  fairy  has  made  me  her  victim,  and  a 
wretched  fate  has  changed  your  lily  to  charcoal." 

Though  he  cursed  the  fairies  who  had  played  on  his  credu- 
lity, Carlino,  like  a  true  prince,  would  not  break  his  word. 
He  gallantly  gave  his  hand  to  Lucy,  and  helped  her  to  descend 
from  the  tree,  all  the  while  heaving  sighs  that  would  have 
melted  a  heart  of  stone.  When  the  negress  was  dressed  like 
a  princess,  and  covered  with  lace  and  diamonds  that  adorn- 
ed her  as  the  stars  adorn  the  night,  by  rendering  the  darkness 
still  more  visible,  Carlino  seated  her  at  his  right  hand,  in  a 
magnificent  carriage  lined  with  plate  glass  and  drawn  by  six 
white  horses,  and  took  his  way  to  the  palace,  as  happy  as  a 
criminal  with  the  rope  about  his  neck. 

The  old  king  came  to  meet  them  a  league  from  the  castle. 
The  wonderful  stories  of  his  son  had  turned  his  brain.  In 
spite  of  etiquette  and  against  the  remonstrances  of  his  court- 
iers, he  hastened  to  admire  the  incomparable  beauty  of  his 
daughter-in-law.  "  Upon  my  word,"  he  exclaimed  at  the  sight 
of  a  crow  instead  of  the  dove  that  had  been  promised  him — 


The  Three  Citrons. 


"  upon  my  word,  this  is  too  much.  I  knew  that  my  son  was 
mad,  but  I  did  not  know  that  he  was  blind.  Is  this  the  spot- 
less lily  that  he  has  been  to  the  end  of  the  world  to  seek? 
Is  this  the  rose  fresher  than  the  morning  dew,  the  mira- 
cle of  beauty  that  has  come  from  the  rind  of  a  citron  ?  Does 
he  think  that  I  will  bear  this  new  insult  to  my  gray  hairs  ? 
Does  he  think  that  I  will  leave  to  mulatto  children  the  empire 
of  the  Vermilion  Towers,  the  glorious  inheritance  of  my  an- 
cestors ?  This  baboon  shall  never  enter  my  palace." 

The  prince  fell  at  his  father's  feet  and  tried  to  move  him. 
The  prime  minister,  a  man  of  great  experience,  remonstrated 
with  his  master  that,  at  court,  black  often  becomes  white  and 
white  black  in  the  space  of  twenty-four  hours  ;  and  that  there 
was  no  reason  to  be  astonished  at  such  a  very  natural  meta- 
morphosis. What  was  the  King  of  the  Vermilion  Towers  to 
do  ?  He  was  a  king  and  a  father,  and  by  this  double  title  al- 
ways accustomed  to  do  the  will  of  others  :  he  yielded  and 
consented  with  a  bad  grace  to  this  strange  union.  The  court 
gazette  announced  to  the  whole  kingdom  the  happy  choice 
that  the  prince  had  made,  and  ordered  the  people  to  rejoice. 


152 


Fairy  Book. 


The  wedding  was  postponed  for  a  week ;  it  was  impossible  to 
make  the  preparations  for  the  ceremony  in  less  time  than 
this. 

The  negress  was  lodged  in  a  magnificent  suite  of  apart- 
ments; countesses  disputed  with  each  other  the  honor  of 
putting  on  her  slippers ;  and  duchesses  obtained,  not  with- 
out difficulty,  the  glorious  privilege  of  handing  her  her  night- 
gown. The  town  and  castle  were  adorned  with  flags  of  all 
colors ;  walls  were  thrown  down,  yews  were  planted,  walks 
were  graveled,  old  speeches  were  fur- 
bished up,  stale  compliments  were 
newly  framed,  and  poems  and  sonnets 
that  had  done  duty  every  where  were 
patched  up  anew.  There  was  but  one 
idea  in  the  kingdom — that  of  thankful- 
ness to  the  prince  for  having  chosen  a 
wife  so  worthy  of  him. 

The  kitchen  was  not  forgotten.  Three 
hundred  scullions,  a  hundred  cooks,  and 
fifty  stewards  set  to  work,  under  the  su- 


The  Three  Citrons.  153 

perintendence  of  the  famous  Bouchibus,  the  chief  of  the  royal 
kitchens.  Pigs  were  killed,  sheep  cut  up,  capons  larded, 
pigeons  plucked,  and  turkeys  spitted  :  it  was  a  universal  mas- 
sacre. It  is  impossible  to  have  a  feast  worthy  of  the  name 
without  the  help  of  the  poultry-yard. 

In  the  midst  of  this  bustle  a  beautiful  wood-pigeon,  with 
blue  wings,  perched  on  one  of  the  kitchen  windows,  and 
cooed  in  a  plaintive  voice, 

"  Bouchibus,  tell  me,  for  you  must  know,  sure, 
What  has  Carlino  to  do  with  the  Moor?" 

The  great  Bouchibus  was  at  first  too  busy  with  public  af- 
fairs to  attend  to  the  cooing  of  a  pigeon ;  but,  after  a  while, 
he  began  to  be  astonished  at  understanding  the  language  of 
birds,  and  thought  it  his  duty  to  inform  his  new  mistress  of 
the  wonder.  The  negress  did  not  disdain  to  go  to  the  kitch- 
en. As  soon  as  she  heard  the  song,  with  a  cry  of  affright,  she 
ordered  Bouchibus  to  catch  the  pigeon  and  make  a  stew  of  it. 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  The  poor  bird  suffered  itself 
to  be  caught  without  resistance.  In  an  instant  Bouchibus, 
armed  with  his  great  knife,  cut  off  its  head  and  threw  it  into 
the  garden.  Three  drops  of  blood  fell  on  the  ground ;  and 
three  days  after  there  sprang  from  the  earth  a  beautiful  citron- 
tree,  which  grew  so  fast  that  before  night  it  was  in  blossom. 

The  prince,  while  taking  the  air  in  his  balcony,  chanced  to 
spy  a  citron-tree  which  he  had  never  seen  before.  He  called 
the  cook,  and  asked  him  who  had  planted  this  beautiful  tree. 
The  story  of  Bouchibus  perplexed  him  greatly.  He  at  once 
commanded,  under  penalty  of  death,  that  no  one  should  touch 
the  citron-tree,  and  that  the  greatest  care  should  be  taken 
of  it. 

The  next  morning,  as  soon  as  he  awoke,  the  prince  hasten- 
ed to  the  garden.  There  were  already  three  citrons  on  the 
tree — three  citrons  exactly  like  those  which  the  Fate  had  given 

G  2 


154  Fairy  Book. 

him.  Carlino  gathered  them,  hastened  to  his  apartments,  and 
shut  himself  up  under  lock  and  key.  With  a.  trembling  hand 
he  filled  a  golden  cup,  set  with  rubies,  which  had  belonged  to 
his  mother,  with  water,  and  opened  the  magic  knife,  which  had 
never  left  him. 

He  cut  a  citron,  and  the  first  fairy  came  forth.  Carlino 
scarcely  glanced  at  her,  and  suffered  her  to  take  flight.  It 
was  the  same  with  the  second ;  but  as  soon  as  the  third  ap- 
peared, he  gave  her  the  cup,  from  which  she  drank  with  a 
smile,  and  stood  before  him  more  beautiful  and  graceful  than 
ever. 

The  fairy  then  told  Carlino  all  that  she  had  suffered  from 
the  wicked  negress.  The  prince,  beside  himself  with  mingled 
joy  and  anger,  laughed  and  wept,  sang  and  raved.  The  king, 
hearing  the  noise,  ran  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and  you 
may  judge  of  his  surprise.  He  danced  about  like  a  madman, 
with  his  crown  on  his  head  and  his  sceptre  in  his  hand.  All 
at  once  he  stopped  short,  bent  his  brow,  which  was  a  sign  that 
a  thought  had  struck  him,  threw  a  large  veil  over  the  prin- 
cess which  covered  her  from  head  to  foot,  and,  taking  her  by 
the  hand,  led  her  to  the  dining-room. 

It  was  the  hour  for  breakfast.  The  ministers  and  courtiers 
were  ranged  round  a  long  table,  magnificently  served,  waiting 
for  the  entrance  of  the  royal  family  to  be  seated.  The  king 
called  the  guests  one  after  another,  and,  raising  the  veil  as 
each  approached  the  fairy,  asked, 

"  What  shall  be  done  to  the  person  who  sought  to  destroy 
this  marvel  of  beauty  ?" 

And  each  one,  wonder-struck,  answered  in  his  own  way. 
Some  said  that  the  author  of  such  a  crime  deserved  a  hempen 
cravat ;  others  thought  that  the  wretch  should  be  thrown  into 
the  water  with  a  stone  to  his  neck.  Beheading  seemed  to 
the  old  minister  too  mild  a  punishment  for  such  a  villain  ;  he 


The  Three  Citrons. 


155 


was  in  favor  of  flaying  him  alive,  and  all  present  applauded 
his  humanity. 

When  the  negress's  turn  came,  she  approached  without  sus- 


picion, and  did  not  recognize  the  fairy.  "  Sire,"  said  she,  "  a 
monster  capable  of  injuring  this  charming  creature  deserves 
to  be  roasted  alive  in  an  oven,  and  to  have  his  ashes  thrown 
to  the  winds." 

"  You  have  pronounced  your  own  sentence,"  cried  the  King 
of  the  Vermilion  Towers.  "  Wretch,  behold  your  victim,  and 
prepare  to  die.  Let  a  funeral  pile  be  built  in  the  square  in 
front  of  the  castle.  I  will  give  my  good  people  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  a  witch  burn ;  it  will  occupy  them  for  an  hour  or 
two." 

"  Sire,"  said  the  young  fairy,  taking  the  king's  hand,  "  your 
majesty  surely  will  not  refuse  me  a  wedding  gift?" 

"  No,  indeed,  my  child,"  replied  the  old  king.  "  Ask  what 
you  will ;  should  it  be  my  crown,  I  will  gladly  give  it  to  you." 

"  Sire,"  continued  the  fairy,  "  grant  me  this  wretched  crea- 
ture's pardon.  An  ignorant  and  miserable  slave,  life  has 


156  Fairy  Book. 

taught  her  nothing  but  hatred  and  malice  ;  let  me  render  her 
happy,  and  teach  her  that  the  only  happiness  on  earth  con- 
sists in  loving  others." 

"  My  daughter,"  said  the  king,  "  it  is  very  evident  that  you 
are  a  fairy ;  you  know  nothing  of  human  justice.  Among  us, 
we  do  not  reform  the  wicked,  we  kill  them  ;  it  is  sooner  done. 
But  I  have  given  my  word ;  tame  this  serpent  at  your  own 
risk  and  peril ;  I  am  willing." 

The  fairy  raised  the  negress,  who  kissed  her  hands,  weep- 
ing; then  they  all  sat  down  to  the  table.  The  king  was  so 
happy  that  he  ate  enough  for  four.  As  to  Carlino,  who  kept 
his  eyes  fixed  on  his  bride,  he  cut  his  thumb  five  or  six  times 
in  a  fit  of  absent-mindedness,  which  each  time  put  him  in  the 
best  humor  imaginable.  Every  thing  gives  us  pleasure  when 
the  heart  is  happy. 

When  the  old  king  died,  full  of  years  and  honor,  Carlino 
and  his  lovely  wife  ascended  the  throne  in  turn.  For  half  a 
century,  if  history  is  to  be  believed,  they  neither  raised  the 
taxes,  shed  a  drop  of  blood,  nor  caused  a  tear  to  fall ;  and 
although  more  than  a  thousand  years  have  passed  since  then, 
the  good  people  of  the  Vermilion  Towers  still  sigh  at  the 
mention  of  this  distant  age,  and  little  children  are  not  the 
only  ones  to  ask  when  the  fairies  will  reign  again. 


STORY  OF  COQUERICO. 

A    SPANISH    TALE. 

ONCE  upon  a  time  there  was  a  handsome  hen  who  lived 
like  a  great  lady  in  the  poultry-yard  of  a  rich  farmer,  sur- 
rounded by  a  numerous  family  which  clucked  about  her,  and 
none  of  which  clamored  more  loudly  or  picked  up  the  corn 
faster  with  his  beak  than  a  poor  little  deformed  and  crippled 
chicken.  This  was  precisely  the  one  that  the  mother  loved 
best.  It  is  the  way  with  all  mothers ;  the  weakest  and  most 
unsightly  are  always  their  favorites.  This  misshapen  creature 
had  but  one  eye,  one  wing,  and  one  leg  in  good  condition ;  it 
might  have  been  thought  that  Solomon  had  executed  his  mem- 
orable sentence  on  Coquerico,  for  that  was  the  name  of  the 
wretched  chicken,  and  cut  him  in  two  with  his  famous  sword. 
When  a  person  is  one-eyed,  lame,  and  one-armed,  he  may  rea- 
sonably be  expected  to  be  modest ;  but  our  Castilian  ragamuf- 
fin was  prouder  than  his  father,  the  best  spurred,  most  ele- 
gant, bravest,  and  most  gallant  cock  to  be  seen  from  Burgos 
to  Madrid.  He  thought  himself  a  phcenix  of  grace  and 
beauty,  and  passed  the  best  part  of  the  day  in  admiring  him- 
self in  the  brook.  If  one  of  his  brothers  ran  against  him  by 
accident,  he  abused  him,  called  him  envious  and  jealous,  and 
risked  his  only  remaining  eye  in  battle ;  if  the  hens  clucked 
on  seeing  him,  he  said  it  was  to  hide  their  spite  because  he 
did  not  condescend  to  look  at  them. 

One  day,  when  he  was  more  puffed  up  with  vanity  than 
usual,  he  resolved  no  longer  to  remain  in  such  a  narrow 


158  Fairy  Book. 

sphere,  but  to  go  out  into  the  world,  where  he  would  be  bet- 
ter appreciated. 

"  My  lady  mother,"  said  he,  "  I  am  tired  of  Spain ;  I  am 
going  to  Rome  to  see  the  pope  and  cardinals." 

"What  are  you  thinking  of,  my  poor  child!"  cried  his 
mother.  "  Who  has  put  such  a  folly  into  your  head  ?  Nev- 
er has  one  of  our  family  been  known  to  quit  his  country, 
and,  for  this  reason,  we  are  the  honor  of  our  race,  and  are 
proud  of  our  genealogy.  Where  will  you  find  a  poultry-yard 
like  this — mulberry-trees  to  shade  you,  a  whitewashed  hen- 
roost, a  magnificent  dunghill,  worms  and  corn  every  where, 
brothers  that  love  you,  and  three  great  dogs  to  guard  you 
from  the  foxes  ?  Do  you  not  think  that  at  Rome  itself  you 
will  regret  the  ease  and  plenty  of  such  a  life  ?" 

Coquerico  shrugged  his  crippled  wing  in  token  of  disdain. 
"  You  are  a  simple  woman,  my  good  mother,"  said  he ;  "  ev- 
ery thing  is  accounted  worthy  of  admiration  by  him  who  has 
never  quitted  his  dunghill.  But  I  have  wit  enough  to  see  that 
my  brothers  have  no  ideas,  and  that  my  cousins  are  nothing 
but  rustics.  My  genius  is  stifling  in  this  hole  ;  I  wish  to  roam 
the  world  and  seek  my  fortune." 

"  But,  my  son,  have  you  never  looked  in  the  brook  ?"  re- 
sumed the  poor  hen.  "  Don't  you  know  that  you  lack  an  eye, 
a  leg,  and  a  wing  ?  To  make  your  fortune,  you  need  the  eyes 
of  a  fox,  the  legs  of  a  spider,  and  the  wings  of  a  vulture. 
Once  outside  of  these  walls,  you  are  lost." 

"  My  good  mother,"  replied  Coquerico, "  when  a  hen  hatch- 
es a  duck,  she  is  always  frightened  on  seeing  it  run  to  the  wa- 
ter. You  know  me  no  better.  It  is  my  nature  to  succeed  by 
my  wit  and  talent.  I  must  have  a  public  capable  of  appre- 
ciating the  charms  of  my  person ;  my  place  is  not  among  in- 
ferior people." 

"  My  son,"  said  the  hen,  seeing  all  her  counsels  useless, 


Story  of  Coquerico.  159 

"  my  son,  listen  at  least  to  your  mother's  last  words.  If  you 
go  to  Rome,  take  care  to  avoid  St.  Peter's  Church  •  the  saint, 
it  is  said,  dislikes  cocks,  especially  when  they  crow.  Shun, 
moreover,  certain  personages  called  cooks  and  scullions  ;  you 
will  know  them  by  their  paper  caps,  their  tucked-up  sleeves, 
and  the  great  knives  which  they  wear  at  their  sides.  They 
are  licensed  assassins,  who  track  our  steps  without  pity,  and 
cut  our  throats  without  giving  us  time  to  cry  mercy.  And 
now,  my  child,"  she  added,  raising  her  claw,  "receive  my 
blessing.  May  St.  James,  the  patron  saint  of  pilgrims,  protect 
thee !" 

Coquerico  pretended  not  to  see  the  tear  that  trembled  in 
his  mother's  eye,  nor  did  he  trouble  himself  any  more  about 
his  father,  who  bristled  his  plumage  and  seemed  about  to  call 
him  back.  Without  caring  for  those  whom  he  left  behind,  he 
glided  through  the  half-open  door,  and,  once  outside,  flapped 
his  only  wing  and  crowed  three  times,  to  celebrate  his  free- 
dom—" Cock-a-doodle-doo !" 

As  he  half  flew,  half  hopped  over  the  fields,  he  came  to  the 
bed  of  a  brook  which  had  been  dried  up  by  the  sun.  In  the 
middle  of  the  sands,  however,  still  trickled  a  tiny  thread  of 
water,  so  small  that  it  was  choked  by  a  couple  of  dead  leaves 
that  had  fallen  into  it. 

"  My  friend,"  exclaimed  the  streamlet  at  the  sight  of  our 
traveler,  "  my  friend,  you  see  my  weakness  ;  I  have  not  even 
the  strength  to  carry  away  these  leaves  which  obstruct  my 
passage,  much  less  to  make  a  circuit,  so  completely  am  I  ex- 
hausted. With  a  stroke  of  your  beak  you  can  restore  me  to 
life.  I  am  not  an  ingrate ;  if  you  oblige  me,  you  may  count 
on  my  gratitude  the  first  rainy  day,  when  the  water  from  heav- 
en shall  have  restored  my  strength." 

"  You  are  jesting  ?"  said  Coquerico.  "  Do  I  look  like  one 
whose  business  it  is  to  sweep  the  brooks  ?  Apply  to  those  of 


160  Fairy  Book. 

your  own  sort."  And,  with  his  sound  leg,  he  leaped  across  the 
streamlet. 

"  You  will  remember  me  when  you  least  expect  it,"  mur- 
mured the  brook,  but  with  so  feeble  a  voice  that  it  was  lost 
on  the  proud  cock. 

A  little  farther  on,  Coquerico  saw  the  wind  lying  breathless 
on  the  ground. 

"  Dear  Coquerico,  come  to  my  aid,"  it  cried  ;  "  here  on  earth 
we  should  help  each  other.  You  see  to  what  I  am  reduced 
by  the  heat  of  the  day ;  I,  who  in  former  times  uprooted  the 
olive-trees  and  lashed  the  waves  to  frenzy,  lie  here  well-nigh 
slain  by  the  dog  star.  I  suffered  myself  to  be  lulled  to  sleep 
by  the  perfume  of  the  roses  with  which  I  was  playing ;  and 
lo !  here  I  am,  stretched  almost  lifeless  upon  the  ground.  If 
you  will  raise  me  a  couple  of  inches  with  your  beak  and  fan 
me  a  little  with  your  wing,  I  shall  have  the  strength  to  mount 
to  yonder  white  clouds  which  I  see  in  the  distance,  where  I 
shall  receive  aid  enough  from  my  family  to  keep  me  alive  till 
I  gain  fresh  strength  from  the  next  whirlwind." 

"  My  lord,'1  answered  the  spiteful  Coquerico,  "  your  excel- 
lency has  more  than  once  amused  himself  by  playing  tricks 
at  my  expense.  It  is  not  a  week  since  your  lordship  glided 
like  a  traitor  behind  me,  and  diverted  himself  by  opening  my 
tail  like  a  fan  and  covering  me  with  confusion  in  the  face  of 
nations.  Have  patience,  therefore,  my  worthy  friend ;  mock- 
ers always  have  their  turn  ;  it  does  them  good  to  repent,  and 
to  learn  to  respect  those  whose  birth,  wit,  and  beauty  should 
screen  them  from  the  jests  of  a  fool."  And  Coquerico,  brist- 
ling his  plumage,  crowed  three  times  in  his  shrillest  voice  and 
proudly  strutted  onward. 

A  little  farther  on  he  came  to  a  newly-mown  field,  where 
the  farmers  had  piled  up  the  weeds  in  order  to  burn  them. 
Coquerico  approached  a  smoking  heap,  hoping  to  find  some 


Story  of  Coquerico.  161 

stray  kernels  of  corn,  and  saw  a  little  flame  which  was  char- 
ring the  green  stalks  without  being  able  to  set  them  on  fire. 

"  My  good  friend,"  cried  the  flame  to  the  new-comer,  "  you 
are  just  in  time  to  save  my  life ;  I  am  dying  for  want  of  air. 
I  can  not  imagine  what  has  become  of  my  cousin,  the  wind, 
who  cares  for  nothing  but  his  own  amusement.  Bring  me  a 
few  dry  straws  to  rekindle  my  strength,  and  you  will  not  have 
obliged  an  ingrate." 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  Coquerico,  "  and  I  will  serve  you 
as  you  deserve,  insolent  fellow  that  dares  ask  my  help  !"  And 
behold !  he  leaped  on  the  heap  of  dried  weeds,  and  trampled 
it  down  till  he  smothered  both  flame  and  smoke ;  after  which 
he  exultingly  shouted  three  times  "  Cock-a-doodle-doo !"  and 
flapped  his  wings,  as  if  he  had  done  a  great  deed. 

Proudly  strutting  onward  and  crowing,  Coquerico  at  last 
arrived  at  Rome,  the  place  to  which  all  roads  lead.  Scarcely 
had  he  reached  the  city  when  he  hastened  to  the  great  church 
of  St.  Peter.  Grand  and  beautiful  as  it  was,  he  did  not  stop 
to  admire  it,  but,  planting  himself  in  front  of  the  main  en- 
trance, where  he  looked  like  a  fly  among  the  great  columns, 
he  raised  himself  on  tip-toe  and  began  to  shout  "  Cock-a-doo- 
dle-doo !"  only  to  enrage  the  saint  and  disobey  his  mother. 

He  had  not  yet  ended  his  song  when  one  of  the  pope's 
guard,  who  chanced  to  hear  him,  laid  hands  on  the  insolent 
wretch  who  dared  thus  to  insult  the  saint,  and  carried  him 
home  in  order  to  roast  him  for  supper. 

"Quick !"  said  he  to  his  wife  on  entering  the  house,  "give 
me  some  boiling  water ;  here  is  a  sinner  to  be  punished." 

"  Pardon,  pardon,  Madam  Water  !"  cried  Coquerico.  "  Oh, 
good  and  gentle  water,  the  best  and  purest  thing  in  the  world, 
do  not  scald  me,  I  pray  you !" 

"  Did  you  have  pity  on  me  when  I  implored  your  aid,  un- 
grateful wretch  ?"  answered  the  water,  boiling  with  indignation. 


162 


Fairy  Book. 


And  with  a  single  gush  it  inundated  him  from  head  to  foot, 
and  left  not  a  bit  of  down  on  his  body. 

The  unhappy  Coquerico  stripped  of  all  his  feathers,  the 
soldier  took  him  and  laid  him  on  the  gridiron. 

"  Oh,  fire,  do  not  burn  me !"  cried  he,  in  an  agony  of  terror. 
"  Oh,  beautiful  and  brilliant  fire,  the  brother  of  the  sun  and 
the  cousin  of  the  diamond,  spare  an  unhappy  creature  j  re- 
strain thy  ardor,  and  soften  thy  flame  ;  do  not  roast  me  !" 

"  Did  you  have  pity  on  me  when  I  implored  your  aid,  un- 
grateful wretch  ?"  answered  the  fire,  and,  fiercely  blazing  with 
anger,  in  an  instant  it  burnt  Coquerico  to  a  coal. 


Story  of  Coquerico.  163 

The  soldier,  seeing  his  roast  chicken  in  this  deplorable 
condition,  took  him  by  the  leg  and  threw  him  out  of  the  win- 
dow. The  wind  bore  the  unhappy  fowl  to  a  dunghill,  where 
it  left  him  for  a  moment. 

"  Oh,  wind,"  murmured  Coquerico,  who  still  breathed,  "  oh, 
kindly  zephyr,  protecting  breeze,  behold  me  cured  of  my  vain 
follies  ;  let  me  rest  on  the  paternal  dunghill." 

"  Let  you  rest !"  roared  the  wind.  "  Wait,  and  I  will  teach 
you  how  I  treat  ingrates."  And  with  one  blast  it  sent  him 
so  high  in  the  air  that,  as  he  fell  back,  he  was  transfixed  by 
a  steeple. 

There  St.  Peter  was  awaiting  him.  With  his  own  hand  he 
nailed  him  to  the  highest  steeple  in  Rome,  where  he  is  still 
shown  to  travelers.  However  high  placed  he  may  be,  all  de- 
spise him  because  he  turns  with  the  slightest  wind ;  black, 
dried  up,  stripped  of  his  feathers,  and  beaten  by  the  rain,  he 
is  no  longer  called  Coquerico,  but  Weathercock ;  and  thus  ex- 
piates, and  must  expiate  eternally,  his  disobedience,  vanity, 
and  wickedness. 


KINO  BIZARRE  AND  PRINCE  CHARMING; 

OR,  THE  ART  OF  GOVERNING  MEN. 
A   TALE   OF   ALL    NATIONS. 

I. 

KING   BIZARRE  AND   PRINCE  CHARMING. 

IN  the  kingdom  of  Wild  Oats,  a  happy  country,  a  land  bless- 
ed of  heaven,  where  the  men  are  always  right  and  the  women 
never  wrong,  there  lived  long  ago  a  king  who  thought  of  noth- 
ing but  the  happiness  of  his  kingdom,  and  who,  it  is  said, 
never  was  dull  for  lack  of  amusement.  Whether  he  was  be- 
loved by  his  people  is  doubtful ;  i^js  certain  that  the  courtiers 
had  little  esteem  and  less  love  for  their  prince.  For  this  rea- 
son, they  had  given  him  the  surname  of  King  Bizarre",  the  only 
title  by  which  he  is  known  in  history,  as  is  seen  in  the  Great 
Chronicles  of  the  Kingdoms  and  Principalities  of  the  World  which 
have  never  existed,  a  learned  masterpiece  which  has  immor- 
talized the  erudition  and  criticism  of  the  reverend  father,  Doc- 
tor Melchisedec  de  Mentiras  y  Necedad. 

Left  a  widower  after  a  year's  marriage,  Bizarre  had  fixed 
his  whole  affections  on  his  son  and  heir,  who  was  the  most 
beautiful  child  imaginable.  His  complexion  was  as  fresh  as 
a  rose  ;  his  beautiful  fair  hair  fell  in  golden  curls  on  his  shoul- 
ders ;  add  to  this  clear  blue  eyes,  a  straight  nose,  a  small 
mouth,  and  a  dimpled  chin,  and  you  have  the  portrait  of  a 
cherub.  At  twelve  years  of  age  this  young  marvel  danced 
enchantingly,  rode  like  a  ridihg-master,  and  fenced  to  perfec- 
tion. No  one  could  have  helped  being  won  by  his  smile  and 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.    165 

the  truly  royal  manner  in  which  he  saluted  the  crowd  in  pass- 
ing when  he  was  in  good  humor.  For  this  reason,  the  voice 
of  the  people,  which  is  never  mistaken,  had  christened  him 
Prince  Charming,  and  this  name  always  clung  to  him. 

Charming  was  as  beautiful  as  the  day ;  but  the  sun  itself, 
it  is  said,  has  spots,  and  princes  do  not  disdain  to  resemble 
the  sun.  The  child  dazzled  the  court  with  his  fine  mien ;  but 
there  were  shadows  here  and  there  which  did  not  escape  the 
piercing  eye  of  love  or  envy.  Supple,  agile,  and  adroit  in  all 
kinds  of  bodily  exercises,  Charming  had  an  indolent  mind. 
He  lacked  application,  and  had  taken  a  fancy  that  he  ought 
to  know  every  thing  without  t  studying.  It  is  true  that  gov- 
ernesses, courtiers,  and  servants  had  continually  repeated  to 
him  that  work  was  not  made  for  kings,  and  that  a  prince  al- 
ways knows  enough  when  he  lavishes  pn  poets,  writers,  and 
artists,  with  a  prodigal  and  disdainful  hand,  a  little  of  the 
money  which  the  people  are  too  happy  to  offer  him. 

These  maxims  tickled  Charming's  pride ;  and  at  twelve 
years  of  age,  the  beautiful  child,  with  precocious  firmness, 
had  steadily  refused  to  learn  the  alphabet.  Three  teachers, 
chosen  from  the  most  .able  and  patient  instructors,  a  priest,  a 
philosopher,  and  a  colonel,  had  attempted^  turn  to  bend  his 
youthful  obstinacy ;  but  the  priest  had  wasted  his  philosophy, 
the  philosopher  his  tactics,  and  the  colonel  his  Latin.  -  Left 
master  of  the  field  of  battle,  Charming  listened  to  nothing  but 
his  caprice,  and  lived  lawless  and  unconstrained.  As  stub- 
born as  a  mule,  as  irascible  as  a  turkey-cock,  as  dainty  as  a 
cat,  and  as  idle  as  an  adder,  but  an'  accomplished  prince 
withal,  he  was  the  pride  of  the  beautiful  country  of  Wild  Oats, 
and  the  hope  and  love  of  a  people  that  esteemed  nothing  in 
their  kings  but  grace  and  beauty. 


1 66  Fairy  Book. 


II. 

P  A  Z  Z  A. 

NOTWITHSTANDING  he  had  been  brought  up  at  court,-  King 
Bizarre  was  a  man  of  sense.  Charming's  ignorance  was  far 
from  pleasing  to  him,  and  he  often  asked  himself  with  anxiety 
what  would  become  of  his  kingdom  in  the  hands  of  a  prince 
whom  the  basest  of  flatterers  might  easily  deceive.  But  what 
was  he  to  do,  what  means  could  he  employ  with  a  child  that  a 
worshiped  wife  had  bequeathed  to  him  in  dying  ?  Rather  than 
see  his  son  weep,  Bizarre  would  have  given  him  his  crown  \ 
his  affection  rendered  him  powerless.  Love  is  not  blind, 
whatever  the  poets  may  say ;  alas  !  it  would  be  too  happy  not 
to  see  a  jot.  It  is  the  torment  of  him  who  loves  to  become, 
despite  himself,  the  slave-  and  accomplice  of  the  ingrate  who 
feels  himself  beloved. 

Every  day,  after  the  council,  the  king  went  to  spend  the 
evening  with  the  Countess  of  Castro,  an  old  lady  who  had 
dandled  him  on  her  knees  when  an  infant,  and  who  alone 
could  recall  to  him  the  sweet  memories  of  his  childhood  and 
youth.  She  was  very  ugly,  and  something  of  a  witch,  it 
is  said ;  but  the  world  is  so  wicked  that  we  must  never  be- 
lieve more  than  half  its  scandal.  The  countess  had  large 
features  and  luxuriant  gray  hair,  and  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
she  had  been  beautiful  in  former  times. 

One  day,  when  Charming  had  been  more  unreasonable 
than  usual,  the  king  entered  the  countess's  house  with  an 
anxious  air,  and,  seating  himself  before  the  c*ard-table,  began 
to  play  a  game  of  Patience.  It  was  his  way  of  diverting  his 
thoughts  and  forgetting  for  a  few  hours  the  cares  of  royalty. 
Scarcely  had  he  ranged  sixteen  cards  in  a  square  when  he 
heaved  a  deep  sigh. 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     167 

"  Countessr,"  he  cried,  "  you  see  before  you  the  most  wretch- 
ed of  fathers  and  kings.  Despite  his  natural  grace,  Charm- 
ing is  every  day  becoming  more  willful  and  vicious.  Must  I 
leave  such  an  heir  after  me,  and  intrust  the  happiness  of  my 
people  to  a  crowned  fool  ?" 

"  That  is  the  way  with  Nature,"  replied  the  countess  ;  "  she 
always  distributes  her  gifts  with  an  impartial  hand.  Stupidity 
and  beauty  go  hand  in  hand,  and  wit  and  ugliness  are  sel- 
d$m  separated.  I  have  an  example  of  this  in  my  own  family. 
A  few  days  ago  a  great-grand-niece  was  sent  to  me,  a  child 
under  ten  years  old,  that  has  no  other  relative  :  she  is  as  taw- 
ny as  a  frog,  as  scraggy  as  a  spider,  yet,  withal,  as  cunning  as 
an  ape,  and  as  learned  as  a  book.  Judge  for  yourself,  sire  j 
here  is  my  little  monster  coming  to  salute  you." 

JBizarre  turned  his  head  and  saw  a  child  that  answered  in 
every  respect  to  the  countess's  description.  With  a  high, 
round  forehead,  black,  wild -looking  eyes,  rough  hair  turned 
back  in  the  Chinese  fashion,  dull,  brown  skin,  great  white 
teeth,  red  hands,  and  long  arms,  she  was  any  thing  but  a 
beauty.  But  the  chrysalis  gives  birth  to  the  butterfly  :  wait  a 
few  years,  and  you  will  see  what  pretty  women  come  from 
these  frightful  little  girls  of  ten. 

The  little  monster  approached  the  king,  and  courtesied  to 
him  with  so  serious  an  air  that  Bizarre  could  not  help  laugh- 
ing, though  he  felt  little  like  it. 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  asked  he,  chucking  the  child  under  the 
chin. 

"  Sire,"  she  answered,  gravely,  "  I  am  Donna  Dolores  Rosa- 
rio  Coral  Concha  Balthazara  Melchiora  Gaspara  y  Todos  San- 
tos, the  daughter  of  the  noble  knight  Don  Pasquale  Bartolo- 
meo  Francesco  de  Asiz  y — " 

"  Enough,"  said  -the  king ;  "  I  did  not  ask  for  your  genealo- 


1 68  Fairy  Book. 

gy;  we  are  witnessing  neither  your  baptism  nor  marriage. 
Whak~ar e  you  commonly  called  ?" 
I  "  Sire,"  replied  she,  "  I  am  called  Pazza."* 

"  And  why  are  you  called  Pazza  ?" 

"  Because  it  is  not  my  name." 

"  That  is  strange,"  said  the  king. 

"  No,  it  is  natural,"  replied  the  child.  "  My  aunt  pretends 
that  I  am  too  giddy  for  any  saint  to  wish  to  own  me  for  her 
god-daughter,  and  that  is  why  she  has  given  me  a  name  that 
can  offend  no  one  in  Paradise." 

"Well  answered,  my  child.  I  see  that  you  are  not  an  or- 
dinary girl.  The  saints  in  Paradise  are  not  always  treated 
with  such  consideration.  Since  you  know  so  much,  tell  me 
what  is  a  wise  man  ?" 

"  A  wise  man,  sire,  is  one  who  knows  what  he  says  when 
he  speaks,  and  what  he  does  when  he  acts."  / 

"  Upon  my  word,"  exclaimed  the  king,  rt  if  my  wise  men 
were  what  you  fancy  them,  I  would  make  the  Academy  of 
Sciences  my  council  of  state,  and  would  give  it  my  kingdom 
to  govern.  What  is  an  ignorant  man  ?" 

"  Sire,"  returned  Pazza,  "  there  are  three  kinds  of  ignorant 
men :  he  who  knows  nothing,  he  who  talks  of  what  he  does 
not  know,  and  he  who  will  learn  nothing ;  all  three  are  fit  for 
nothing  but  to  be  burned  or  hung." 

"  That  is  a  proverb ;  do  you  know  what  proverbs  are  called?" 

"Yes,  sire  ;  they  are  called  the  wisdom  of  nations." 

"  And  why  are  they  called  so  ?" 

"Because  they  are  mad;  they  say  whatever  you  please; 
they  are  of  all  colors,  to  suit  all  tastes.  Proverbs  are  like 
bells,  which  answer  yes  or  no  according  to  the  humor  of  their 
listener." 

*  That  is  to  say,  Madcap,  in  Italian.    It  appears  that  a  very  mixed  language  is  spoken 
in  the  kingdom  of  Wild  Oats. 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     1 69 

Upon  which,  springing 
with  both  feet  from  the 
ground,  Pazza  caught  a  fly 
that  was  buzzing  about  the 
king's  nose ;  then,  leaving 
Bizarre  astonished,  she  took 
her  doll,  and,  seating  her- 
self on  the  ground,  began 
to  rock  it  in  her  arms. 

"  Well,  sire,"  the  countess 
said,  "what  do  you  think   | 
of  this  child?" 

"  She  has  too  much  wit," 
answered  the  king;  "she 
will  not  live  long." 

"  Ah !  sire,"  exclaimed  Pazza,  "  you  are  not  complimentary 
to  my  aunt ;  she  is  considerably  older  than  I  am." 

"  Hush,  gipsy !"  said  the  old  lady,  smiling ;  "  don't  you  know 
that  nobody  lectures  kings  ?" 

"Countess,"  said  Bizarre,  "an  idea  has  just  struck  me, 
which  is  so  strange  that  I  hardly  dare  tell  it  to  you ;  yet  I 
have  a  violent  wish  to  carry  it  out.  I  can  do  nothing  with 
my  son ;  reason  has  no  power  v/ith  the  stubborn  child ;  who 
knows  whether  folly  would  not  be  more  successful?  If  I 
thought  so,  I  would  make  Pazza  Charming's  teacher.  /  The 
intractable  boy,  who  rejects  all  masters,  might  be  defenseless 
before  a  child.  The  only  objection  is  that  no  one  will  be  of 
my  opinion ;  I  shall  have  every  body  against  me." 

"  Bah !"  said  the  countess  ;  "  every  body  is  so  stupid  that  it 
is  a  proof  that  you  are  right  that  you  think  differently." 
H 


170  Fairy  Book. 


III. 

THE   FIRST   LESSON. 

IN  this  manner  Pazza  was  intrusted  with  the  instruction  of 
the  young  prinoe^A  There  was  no  official  appointment ;  it 
was  not  announced  in  the  court  gazette  that  the  king,  with 
his  usual  wisdom,  had  found  an  unparalleled  genius  at  the 
first  attempt,  to  whom  he  had  confided  the  heart  and  mind 
of  his  child ;  but  the  very  next  morning  Charming  was  sent 
to  the  countess's  house,  and  was  permitted  to  play  with 
Pazza. 

The  two  children,  left  alone  together,  gazed  at  each  other 
11  in  silence.  Pazza,  being  the  bolder,  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?"  asked  she. 

"  Those  who  know  me  call  me  Your  Highness,"  answered 
Charming,  in  a  piqued  tone  ;  "  those  who  do  not  know  me  call 
me  simply  My  Lord,  and  every  body  says  Sir  to  me ;  etiquette 
requires  it." 

"  What  is  etiquette  ?"  asked  Pazza. 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Charming.  "When  I  want  to 
jump,  shout,  and  roll  on  the  ground,  I  am  told  that  it  is  con- 
trary to  etiquette ;  then  I  keep  still,  and  yawn  for  lack  of 
amusement — that  is  etiquette." 

"  Since  we  are  here  to  amuse  ourselves,"  resumed  Pazza, 
"  there  is  no  etiquette  needed  3  speak  to  me  as  if  I  were  your 
sister,  and  I  will  speak  to  you  as  if  you  were  my  brother.  I 
will  not  call  you  My  Lord." 

"  But  you  don't  know  me,"  said  Charming. 

"What  does  that  matter?"  returned  Pazza;  "I  will  love 
you,  that  is  better.  They  say  that  you  dance  beautifully ; 
teach  me  to  dance,  will  you  ?" 

The  ice  was  broken ;  Charming  took  the  young  girl  by  the 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     171 


waist,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  taught  her  the  last  new 
polka. 

"  How  well  you  dance  !j  said  he.  "  You  have  caught  the 
step  directly." 

"  It  is  because  you  are  a  good  teacher,"  she  replied.  "  Now 
it  is  my  turn  to  teach  you  somethin^j 

She  took  a  beautiful  picture-book,  and  showed  him  fine 
buildings,  fishes,  statesmen,  parrots,  scholars,  curious  animals, 
and  flowers,  all  of  which  greatly  amused  Charming. 

"  See,"  said  Pazza,  "  here  is  the  explanation  of  all  the  pic- 
tures ;  read  it." 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  read,"  replied  Charming. 

"  I  will  teach  you ;  I  will  be  your  little  tutor." 

"  No,"  replied  the  stubborn  prince,  fldo  not  wish  to  read. 
My  masters  tire  me." 

"  Very  well ;  but  I  am  not  a  master.  See,  here  is  an  A,  a 
beautiful  great  A ;  say  A." 


172  Fairy  Book. 

"  No,"  returned  Charming,  frowning, "  I  will  never  say  A." 

"  Not  to  please  me  ?" 

"  No,  never.  Enough  of  this ;  I  do  not  like  people  to  dif- 
fer from  me." 

"  Sir,"  said  Pazza,  "  a  polite  man  never  refuses  ladies  any 
thing." 

"  I  would  refuse  the  devil  in  petticoats,"  replied  the  young 
prince,  tossing  his  head.  "  I  am  tired  of  you ;  let  me  alone. 
I  don't  love  you  any  longer ;  call  me  My  Lord." 

"My  Lord  Charming,  or  my  charming  lord,"  said  Pazza, 
flushed  with  anger,  "  you  shall  read,  or  I  will  know  the  reason 
why." 

"  I  won't  read." 

"  Will  you  not  ?    One — two — three !" 

"  No  !  no  !  no  !" 

Pazza  raised  her  hand,  a«d  IQ!  the  king's  son  received  a 
box  on  the  ear.  /  Pazza  had  been  told  that  she  was  witty  to 
the  ends  of  her  fingers,  and  had  been  stupid  enough  to  be- 
^ieve  it ;  it  is  never  right  to  jest  with  children. 
{  At  this  first  lesson  in  reading,  Charming  turned  pale  and 
trembled ;  the  blood  mounted  to  his  cheeks,  his  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  and  he  gazed  at  his  young  teacher  with  a  look 
that  made  her  start ;  then  all  at  once,  with  a  great  effort,  he 
regained  his  self-possession,  and  said,  in  a  tremulous  voice, 
"  Pazza,  that  is  A."  And  the  same  day,  and  at  one  sitting, 
he  learned  all  the  letters  of  the  alphabet ;  at  the  end  of  the 
week  he  spelt  readily,  and  before  the  month  was  ended  he 
read  with  ease. 

King  Bizarre  was  delighted.  He  kissed  Pazza  on  both 
cheeks  ;  he  insisted  on  having  her  always  with  him  or  his  son, 
and  made  this  child  his  friend  and  counselor,  to  the  great 
disdain  of  all  the  courtiers.  Charming,  still  gloomy  and  si- 
lent, learned  all  that  his  young  Mentor  could  teach  him,  then 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     173 

returned  to  his  former  preceptors,  whom  he  astonished  by  his 
intelligence  and  docility^  He  soon  knew  his  grammar  so 
well  that  the  priest  asked  himself  one  day  whether,  by  chance, 
these  definitions,  which  he  had  never  understood,  had  not  a 
meaning.  Charming  none  the  less  astonished  the  philoso- 
pher, who  taught  him  every  evening  the  opposite  of  what  the 
priest  had  taught  him  in  the  morning.  But,  of  all  his  mas- 
ters, the  one  to  whom  he  listened  with  the  least  repugnance 
was  the  colonel.  It  is  true  that  Bayonet,  for  that  was  the 
colonel's  name,  was  a  skillful  strategist,  and  that  he  could  say, 
like  the  ancient  poet,  with  a  slight  variation, "  I  am  a  man, 
and  nothing  that  pertains  to  the  art  of  dispatching  poor  hu- 
man beings  is  indifferent  4o  me."  It  was  he  that  initiated 
Charming  into  the  mysteries  of  button  gaiters  and  shoulder- 
straps  ;  it  was  he  that  taught  his  pupil  that  the  noblest  study 
for  a  prince  is  the  drilling  of  battalions,  and  that  the  ground- 
work of  statesmanship  is  to  have  reviews  in  order  to  make 
war,  and  to  make  war  in  order  to  have  reviews. 

This  was  not  perhaps  altogether  according  to  Bizarre's  idea 
of  the  art  of  government ;  but  he  thought  he  could  correct 
any  errors  in  the  future,  and,  besides,  he  was  so  rejoiced  at 
Charming's  progress  that  he  was  unwilling  in  any  way  to  med- 
dle with  the  admirable  work  of  an  education  so  long  consid- 
ered hopeless. 

"  My  child,"  he  often  said,  "  never  forget  that  you  owe  ev- 
ery thing  to  Pazza."  As  the  king  spoke  thus,  Pazza  gazed 
tenderly  at  the  young  man.  Despite  all  her  wit,  she  was  fool- 
ish enough  to  love  him.  Charming  contented  himself  with 
coldly  answering  that  gratitude  was  a  princely  virtue,  and  that 
Pazza  should  some  day  learn  that  her  pupil  had  forgotten 
nothing,  i 


174  Fairy  Book. 


IV.      • 

PAZZA'S  WEDDING. 

WHEN  Prince  Charming  had  attained  his  seventeenth  year, 
he  went  one  morning  in  search  of  King  Bizarre,  whose  health 
was  declining,  and  who  was  very  desirous  of  seeing  his  son 
married  before  his  death. 

"  Father,"  said  he,  "  I  have  long  reflected  on  your  wise 
words.  You  gave  me  life,  but  Pazza  has  done  still  more  in 
awakening  my  mind  and  soul.  I  see  but  one  way  of  paying 
the  debt  of  my  heart ;  that  is,  to  marry  the  woman  to  whom  I 
am  indebted  for  what  I  am.  I  come  to  ask  you  for  Pazza's 
hand." 

"  My  dear  child,"  answered  Bizarre,  "  this  step  does  you 
credit.  Pazza  is  not  of  royal  blood;  she  is  not  the  one  whom, 
in  different  circumstances,  I  should  have  chosen  for  your  wife ; 
but  her  virtues,  her  merit,  and,  above  all,  the  sendee  which 
she  has  rendered  us,  make  me  forget  idle  prejudices.  Pazza 
has  the  soul  of  a  queen ;  she  shall  mount  the  throne  with 
you.  In  the  country  of  Wild  Oats,  wit  and  humor  are  held  in 
sufficient  estimation  to  win  you  forgiveness  for  what  fools  call 
a  misalliance,  and  what  I  call  a  princely  marriage.  Happy 
is  he  who  can  choose  an  intelligent  wife,  capable  of  under- 
standing and  loving  him!  To-morrow  your  betrothal  shall 
be  celebrated,  and  in  two  years  your  marriage  shall  take  place. 

The  marriage  occurred  more  speedily  than  the  king  had 
foreseen.  Fifteen  months  after  these  memorable  words,  Bi- 
zarre expired  of  languor  and  exhaustion.*  He  had  taken  the 
vocation  of  king  in  earnest ;  he  fell  a  victim  to  royalty.  The 
old  countess  and  Pazza  wept  their  friend  and  benefactor,  but 
they  were  the  only  mourners.  Without  being  a  bad  son, 
Charming  was  engrossed  with  the  cares  of  the  empire ;  and 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.    175 

the  court  expected  every  thing  from  the  new  reign,  and 
thought  no  more  about  the  old  king,  whose  eyes  were  closed 
in  death. 

After  honoring  his  father's  memory  by  magnificent  ob- 
uies,  the  young  prince,  thenceforth  wholly  devoted  to  love, 
celebrated  his  marriage  with  a  splendor  that  charmed  the 
good  people  of  Wild  Oats.  •'  The  taxes  were  doubled,  but  who 
could  regret  money  so  nobly  employed  ?  Men  came  from  a 
hundred  leagues  round  to  gaze  at  the  new  king,  and  Pazza, 
whose  growing  beauty  and  air  of  goodness  fascinated  all 
hearts,  was  not  less  admired.  There  were  interminable  din- 
ners, harangues  longer  than  the  dinners,  and  poems  more  te- 
dious than  the  harangues.  In  a  word,  it  was  an  incompara- 
ble festival,  which  was  talked  of  for  six  months  after. 

Evening  come,  Charming  took  the  hand  of  his  graceful, 
timid,  and  blushing  bride,  and  with  cold  politeness  led  her 
through  the  corridors  of  the  old  castle.  All  at  once  Pazza 
was  frightened  to  find  herself  in  a  gloomy  dungeon,  with  grated 
windows,  and  huge  bars  and  locks. 

"  What  is  this  ?"  asked  she  ;  "  it  looks  like  a  prison." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  prince,  with  a  terrible  look,  "  it  is  a  prison 
which  you  will  quit  only  for  the  grave." 

"  My  dear,  you  frighten  me,"  said  Pazza,  smiling.  "  Am  I 
a  criminal  without  knowing  it  ?  Have  I  deserved  your  dis- 
pleasure, that  you  threaten  me  with  a  dungeon  ?" 

"  You  have  a  short  memory,"  replied  Charming.  "  An  in- 
sult is  written  on  sand  to  the  giver ;  it  is  inscribed  on  marble 
and  bronze  to  the  receiver." 

"Charming,"  returned  the  poor  child, beginning  to  be  afraid, 
"you  are  repeating  something  from  those  speeches  that  tired 
me  so  much.  Can  you  find  nothing  better  to  say  to  me  to- 
day?" 

"  Wretch !"  cried  the  king, "  you  no  longer  remember  the  box 


176 


Fairy  Book. 


on  the  ear  that  you  gave  me  seven  years  ago,  but  I  have  not 
forgotten  it.  Know  that  if  I  have  wished  you  for  my  wife,  it 
has  been  only  to  have  your  life  in  my  hands,  and  to  make  you 
slowly  expiate  your  crime  of  high  treason." 

"  My  dear,"  said  Pazza,  with  a  pettish  manner,  "  you  may 
put  on  your  Bluebeard  airs,  but  you  will  not  frighten  me,  I  as- 
sure you.  I  know  you,  Charming,  and  I  warn  you  that  if  you 
do  not  put  an  end  to  this  bad  jest,  I  will  not  only  give  you  one 
box  on  the  ear,  but  three,  before  I  forgive  you.  Make  haste 
and  let  me  go  out,  or  I  vow  that  I  will  keep  my  word." 

"  Vow  it  then,  madam,"  cried  the  prince,  furious  at  not  in- 
timidating his  victim.  "  I  accept  your  vow.  I  vow  too,  on 
my  side,  that  I  will  never  acknowledge  you  as  my  wife  till  I 
have  been  base  enough  to  receive  three  times  an  insult  which 
nothing  but  blood  can  wash  out.  He  laughs  well  that  laughs 
last.  Here,  Rachimburg !" 

At  this  terrible  name,  a  jailer  with  a  bushy  beard  and 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     177 

threatening  mien  entered  the  room,  pushed  the  queen  on  a 
wretched  truckle-bed,  and  shut  and  double-locked  the  iron 
door.  A 

IfPazza  wept,  it  was  so  quietly  that  no  one  heard  her. 
Tired  of  the  silence,  Charming  departed,  with  rage  in  his 
heart,  resolving  that  his  rigor  should  break  the  pride  that 
braved  him.  Vengeance,  it  is  said,  is  the  delight  of  kings. 

Two  hours  later  the  countess  received  a  note  by  a  sure 
hand  acquainting  her  with  the  sad  fate  of  her  niece.  How 
this  note  reached  her  is  known  to  me,  but  I  will  not  betray 
the  secret.  If  a  charitable  jailer  is  found  by  chance,  he  should 
be  treated  with  consideration  j  the  species  is  rare,  and  is  daily 
becoming  rarer. 

V. 

A   TERRIBLE   EVENT. 

THE  next  morning  the  court  gazette  announced  that  the 
queen  had  been  seized  with  a  raging  fit  of  madness  on  the 
very  night  of  her  wedding,  and  that  there  was  little  hope  of 
saving  her.  There  was  scarcely  a  courtier,  indeed,  that  had 
not  observed  the  princess's  restless  air  on  the  evening  before, 
and  no  one  was  surprised  at  her  malady.  All  pitied  the  king, 
who  received  with  a  gloomy  and  constrained  mien  the  expres- 
sions of  affection  which  were  lavished  on  him.  He  was  doubt- 
less weighed  down  with  grief,  but  this  grief  appeared  very 
much  lightened  after  the  visit  of  the  countess. 

The  good  lady  was  very  sad,  and  had  a  great  desire  to  see 
her  poor  child,  but  she  was  so  old,  and  found  herself  so  weak 
and  sensitive,  that  she  entreated  the  king  to  spare  her  a  heart- 
rending spectacle.  She  threw  herself  into  the  arms  of  Charm- 
ing, who  tenderly  embraced  her,  and  withdrew,  saying  that  she 
placed  all  her  hope  and  trust  in  the  love  of  the  king  and  the 
talent  of  the  chief  physician  of  the  court. 

H  2 


: 


178  Fairy  Book. 

She  had  scarcely  left  the  room  when  the  physician  whisper- 
ed a  few  words  in  Charming's  ear  which  called  to  his  face  a 
smile  quickly  repressed.  The  countess  pacified,  there  was 
nothing  more  to  fear ;  the  vengeance  was  sure. 

Doctor  Wieduwillst  was  a  great  physician.  Born  in  the  coun- 
try of  Dreams,  he  had  early  quitted  his  native  land  to  seek 
his  fortune  in  the  kingdom  of  Wild  Oats.  /  He  was  too  able 
a  man  not  to  find  it.  In  the  five  years  that  he  had  spent  in 
the  celebrated  University  of  Lugenmaulberg,  the  medical  theo- 
ry had  changed  twenty-five  times,  and,  thanks  to  this  solid 
education,  the  doctor  had  a  firmness  of  principle  which  noth- 
ing could  shake.  He  had  the  frankness  and  bluntness  of  a 
soldier,  it  was  said :  he  swore  at  times,  even  with  ladies ;  a 
rudeness  which  left  him  at  liberty  always  to  be  of  the  same 
mind  withuthe-  stronger,  and  to  demand  a  fee  for  having  no 
opinion.  K  The  queen  had  fallen  into  his  incorruptible  hands. 

She  had  been  imprisoned  for  three  days,  and  the  town  was 
already  beginning  to  talk  of  something  else,  when  one  morn- 
ing Rachimburg  abruptly  entered  the  king's  apartments  with 
a  distracted  air,  and  threw  himself  trembling  at  his  feet. 

"  Sire,"  said  he,  "  I  bring  you  my  head.  The  queen  has 
disappeared." 

"  What  do  you  tell  me  !"  exclaimed  the  king,  turning  pale ; 
"  the  thing  is  impossible  ;  the  dungeon  is  barred  on  all  sides."' 

"Yes,"  said  the  jailer,  "  the  thing  is  impossible,  that  is  cer- 
tain ;  the  bars  are  in  their  places,  the  walls  are  whole,  and 
neither  the  locks  nor  the  bolts  have  been  disturbed  j  but  there 
are  witches  in  the  world  that  pass  through  walls  without  mov- 
ing a  stone,  and  who  knows  but  what  the  prisoner  is  one  of 
them  ?  Was  it  ever  known  whence  she  came  ?" 

The  king  sent  in  search  of  the  doctor.  He  was  a  strong- 
minded  man,  and  had  little  faith  in  witches.  He  sounded  the 
walls,  shook  the  bars,  and  cross-examined  the  jailer,  but  all  to 


, 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     1 79 

no  purpose.  Trusty  men  were  sent  every  where  through  the 
town,  and  spies  were  set  on  the  countess,  whom  the  doctor 
suspected,  but  all  in  vain,  and  after  a  week  the  search  was 
abandoned.  Rachimburg  lost  his  place  as  jailer,  but  as  he 
possessed  the  royal  secret,  as  he  was  needed,  and  as  he  thirst- 
ed to  avenge  himself,  he  was  made  the  warden  of  the  royal 
castle.  Furious  at  his  bad  luck,  he  exercised  his  supervision 
with  such  strictness  that  in  less  than  three  days  he  arrested 
Wieduwillst  himself  half  a  dozen  times,  and  disarmed  all  sus- 
picion. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  some  fishermen  brought  to  the  court 
the  robe  and  mantle  of  the  queen.  The  waves  had  cast  on 
the  shore  these  sad  relics,  covered  with  sand  and  sea-foam. 
That  the  poor  mad  woman  had  drowned  herself,  no  one  doubt- 
ed on  seeing  the  grief  of  the  king  and  the  tears  of  the  countess. 
The  council  was  assembled.  It  decided  with  a  unanimous 
voice  that  the  queen  was  legally  dead,  and  that  the  king  was 
legally  a  widower,  and,  for  the  interest  of  the  people,  entreated 
his  majesty  to  abridge  a  painful  mourning,  and  to  marry  again 
as  soon  as  possible,  in  order  to  strengthen  the  dynasty. /This 
decision  was  transmitted  to  the  king  by  Wieduwillst,  the  chief 
physician  to  the  king  and  president  of  the  royal  council,  who 
made  so  touching  a  speech  that  the  whole  court  burst  into 
tears,  and  Charming  threw  himself  into  the  doctor's  arms, 
calling  him  his  cruel  friend. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  the  funeral  of  a  queen  so  much 
lamented  was  magnificent.  In  the  kingdom  of  Wild  Oats  ev- 
ery thing  serves  as  a  pretext  for  ceremony.  The  pageant  was 
worthy  of  admiration,  but  the  most  admirable  thing  in  it  was 
the  attitude  of  the  young  girls  of  the  court.  Every  one  looked 
at  Charming,  who  was  handsomer  than  ever  in  his  mourning 
dress ;  every  one  wept  with  one  eye  in  honor  of  the  princess, 
and  smiled  with  the  other  to  attract  the  king.  Ah  !  had  pho- 


; 


180  Fairy  Book. 

tography  only  been  invented,  what  portraits  would  antiquity 
have  transmitted  to  us — what  models  for  our  painters  !  The 
passions  still  existed  among  these  good  people ;  their  mobile 
faces  were  animated  by  love,  hatred,  and  anger ;  to-day  we 
are  all  so  virtuous  and  prudent  that  we  all  wear  the  same 
dress,  the  same  hat,  and  the  same  expression.  Civilization  is 
the  triumph  of  morality  and  the  ruin  of  art. 

After  the  description  of  the  funeral  ceremonies,  which,  ac- 
cording to  etiquette,  filled  six  columns,  the  court  gazette  laid 
down  rules  for  the  full  and  the  second  mourning,  blue  and  pink, 
which  are  the  mourning  colors  in  the  kingdom  of  Wild  Oats. 
The  court  was  required  to  be  in  deep  affliction  for  three  weeks, 
and  to  be  comforted  by  degrees  during  the  three  weeks  fol- 
lowing; but  carnival  occurring  during  the  period  of  the  sec- 
ond mourning,  and  respect  being  had  for  trade,  it  was  determ- 
ined to  give  a  masked  ball  at  the  palace.  Tailors  and  dress- 
makers immediately  set  to  work,  invitations  were  solicited  by 
great  and  small,  and  men  began  to  intrigue  as  if  the  fate  of 
the  monarchy  had  been  in  question. 

It  was  in  this  solemn  manner  that  they  mourned  for  poor 

;  Pazza.  f 
J 

VI. 

THE   MASKED   BALL. 

THE  great  day  so  impatiently  expected  at  length  arrived. 
For  six  weeks  the  good  people  of  Wild  Oats  had  been  in  a 
fever  of  excitement.  /  Nothing  more  was  heard  of  ministers, 
senators,  generals,  magistrates,  princesses,  duchesses,  and  citi- 
zens ;  for  twenty  leagues  round,  clowns,  harlequins,  punchinel- 
los,  gipsies,  Columbines,  and  Follies  alone  were  to  be  seen. 
Politics  were  silenced,  or,  rather,  the  nation  was  divided  into 
two  great  parties,  the  conservatives  that  went  to  the  ball,  and 
the  opposition  that  staid  at  home. 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     1 8 1 

If  the  official  gazette  is  to  be  believed,  the  festival  out- 
shone in  splendor  all  others  past  and  to  come.  The  ball  was 
held  in  the  midst  of  the  gardens,  in  a  rotunda  magnificently 
decorated.  A  winding  walk,  shaded  by  elms  and  dimly  light- 
ed by  alabaster  lamps,  led  to  a  hall  resplendent  with  gold, 
verdure,  flowers,  and  light.  An  orchestra,  half  concealed  in 
the  foliage,  breathed  forth  music,  by  turns  plaintive  and  gay. 
Add  to  this  the  richness  of  the  costumes,  the  brilliancy  of  the 
diamonds,  the  piquancy  of  the  masks,  and  the  charm  of  in- 
trigue, and  you  will  see  that  it  would  have  needed  the  soul  of 
an  ancient  Stoic  to  resist  the  intoxication  of  pleasure. 

Yet  Prince  Charming  was  not  amused.  Concealed  under  a 
blue  domino,  with  his  face  entirely  masked,  he  had  addressed 
himself  to  the  most  elegant  and  sprightly  women,  and  had  lav- 
ishly displayed  his  wit  and  grace,  yet  he  had  met  with  nothing 
but  indifference  and  coldness.  /  They  scarcely  listened  to  him, 
answered  with  a  yawn,  and  hastened  to  quit  him.  All  eyes 
were  fixed  on  a  black  domino  with  pink  rosettes  that  moved 
carelessly  among  the  dancers,  receiving  with  the  air  of  a  sul- 
tan the  compliments  and  smiles  that  every  one  lavished  on 
him.  This  domino  was  the  Lord  Wieduwillst,  a  great  friend 
of  the  prince,  but  still  more  the  friend  of  his  own  pleasure. 
In  an  unguarded  moment  the  doctor  had  said  that  morning 
by  chance,  under  the  seal  of  secrecy,  and  to  two  ladies  only, 
that  the  prince  would  wear  pink  rosettes  in  his  black  domino. 
Was  it  his  fault  if  the  ladies  had  been  indiscreet  or  the  prince 
had  changed  his  mind  ? 

While  the  doctor  was  enjoying,  despite  himself,  indeed,  his 
unexpected  triumph,  Charming  seated  himself  in  a  corner  of 
the  hall  and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  f  Alone  in  the  midst 
of  the  crowd,  he  abandoned  himself  to  reflection,  and  the  im- 
age of  Pazza  rose  before  him.  He  had  no  reproaches  to  make 
himself;  his  vengeance  was  just,  yet  he  felt  an  indescribable 


1 82  Fairy  Book. 

remorse.  Poor  Pazza !  no  doubt  she  had  been  guilty ;  but  at 
least  she  loved  him,  she  understood  him,  she  listened  to  him, 
her  eyes  sparkling  with  joy.  How  different  from  all  those 
fools  who  had  not  recognized  a  prince  under  a  domino  at  the 
first  moment  by  his  wit ! 

He  rose  suddenly  to  quit  the  hall,  when  he  perceived,  a  lit- 
tle way  off,  a  mask  that  had  also  left  the  crowd  and  seemed 
lost  in  contemplation.  A  half-open  domino  disclosed  a  gip- 
sy's dress  and  a  pair  of  slippers  with  buckles,  containing  a  foot 
smaller  than  that  of  Cinderella. 

The  king  approached  the  stranger,  and  saw  through  the 
velvet  mask  a  pair  of  large  black  eyes,  the  melancholy  glance 
of  which  surprised  and  charmed  him. 

"  Fair  mask,"  said  he,  "  your  place  is  not  here.  Why  are 
you  not  among  the  eager  and  curious  crowd  that  is  pressing 
around  the  prince  to  dispute  his  smile  and  heart?  Do  you 
not  know  that  there  is  a  crown  to  be  gained  there  ?" 

"  I  make  no  such  pretensions,"  answered  the  domino,  in  a 
grave,  sweet  voice.  "  In  this  game  of  chance  one  runs  the 
risk  of  taking  the  servant  for  the  king.  I  am  too  proud  to 
expose  myself  to  such  a  hazard." 

"  But  if  I  show  you  the  prince  ?" 

"  What  could  I  say  to  him  ?"  replied  the  stranger.  "  I  could 
not  blame  him  without  offense,  or  praise  him  without  flat- 
tery." 

"  You  think  much  evil  of  him,  then  ?" 

"  No,  a  little  evil  and  much  good ;  but  what  does  it  mat- 
ter ?"  And,  opening  her  fan,  the  domino  relapsed  into  her 
reverie. 

This  indifference  surprised  Charming.  He  addressed  her 
with  warmth,  she  replied  coldly ;  he  prayed  her  so  urgently 
to  listen  to  him  that  she  finally  consented  to  do  so,  not  in  the 
ball-room,  where  the  heat  was  overpowering  and  the  curiosity 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     183 

indiscreet,  but  in  the  long  elm-walk,  where  a  few  promenaders 
were  seeking  silence  and  fresh  air. 

The  night  was  advancing,  and  the  gipsy  had  already  spoken 
several  times  of  retiring,  to  the  great  regret  of  the  prince,  who 
vainly  entreated  her  to  unmask.  The  stranger  made  no 
reply. 

"  You  drive  me  to  despair,"  cried  he,  inspired  with  strange 
respect  and  admiration  for  this  mysterious  figure.  "  Why  this 
cruel  silence  ?" 

"  Because  I  know  you,  my  lord,"  replied  the  stranger,  with 
emotion.  "  Your  voice,  which  goes  to  the  heart,  your  lan- 
guage, your  grace,  all  tell  me  who  you  are.  Let  me  go,  Prince 
Charming." 

"  No,  madam,"  cried  the  prince,  delighted  at  so  much  wit, 
"  you  alone  have  recognized  me,  you  alone  have  understood 
me,  to  you  belong  my  heart  and  kingdom.  Throw  off  that  sus- 
picious mask ;  this  very  instant  we  will  return  to  the  ball-room, 
and  I  will  present  to  the  ignorant  crowd  the  woman  whom  I 
have  had  the  happiness  not  to  displease.  Say  but  one  word, 
and  all  my  people  shall  be  at  your  feet." 

"  My  lord,"  replied  the  stranger,  sadly,  "  permit  me  to  re- 
fuse an  offer  which  does  me  honor,  and  the  memory  of  which 
I  shall  always  preserve-/  I  am  ambitious,  I  own ;  the  time 
has  been  when  I  should  have  been  proud  to  share  your 
throne  and  name ;  but,  before  all  things,  I  am  a  woman,  and 
place  all  my  happiness  in  love,  {""fwill  not  have  a  divided 
heart,  should  my  rival  be  only  a  memory ;  I  am  jealous  even 
of  the  past." 

"  I  have  never  loved  in  my  life,"  cried  the  prince,  with  a  ve- 
hemence that  made  the  stranger  start.  "  There  is  a  mystery 
concerning  my  marriage  which  I  can  reveal  only  to  my  wife ; 
but  I  swear  to  you  that  I  have  never  given  away  my  heart ;  I 
love  now  for  the  first  time." 


184  Fairy  Book. 

"  Show  me  your  hand,"  said  the  gipsy,  approaching  the 
lamp,  "  and  let  me  see  whether  you  have  told  the  truth."  J 

Charming  extended  his  hand  with  assurance ;  the  gipsy 
studied  the  lines  and  sighed. 

"  You  are  right,  my  lord,"  said  she,  "  you  have  never  loved. 
But  this  does  not  appease  my  jealousy.  Another  woman  has 
loved  you  before  me.  These  sacred  bonds  are  not  broken  by 
death ;  the  queen  still  loves  you — you  belong  to  her.  To  ac- 
cept a  heart  which  is  no  longer  at  your  disposal  would  be 
sacrilegious  and  criminal  in  me.  Farewell." 

"Madam,"  said  the  king,  with  an  ill -assured  voice,  "you 
do  not  know  what  you  make  me  suffer.  There  are  things 
which  I  would  gladly  bury  in  eternal  silence,  but  which  you 
force  me  to  reveal.  The  queen  never  loved  me ;  ambition 
alone  dictated  her  conduct." 

"  That  is  not  so,"  said  the  stranger,  letting  go  the  prince's 
hand.  "  The  queen  loved  you." 

"  No,  madam,"  replied  Charming ;  "  my  father  and  I  were 
the  victims  of  a  detestable  intrigue." 

"  Enough !"  said  the  stranger,  whose  hands  trembled  and 
whose  ringers  worked  in  a  strange  manner.  "  Respect  the 
dead  ;  do  not  slander  them." 

"  Madam,"  said  the  prince,  "  I  assure  you,  and  none  ever 
doubted  my  word,  that  the  queen  never  loved  me.  She  was 
a  wicked  woman." 

"  Ah  !"  said  the  domino. 

"Willful,  violent,  and  jealous." 

"  If  she  was  jealous,  she  loved  you,"  interrupted  the  mask. 
"  Seek  for  proofs  which  have  at  least  a  shadow  of  probability ; 
^o  not  accuse  a  heart  which  was  wholly  yours." 

"  So  far  from  loving  me,"  said  the  king,  excitedly,  "  the  very 
'flight  of  my  marriage  she  dared  tell  me  to  my  face  that  she 
had  married  me  only  for  my  crown." 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     185 

"  That  is  not  true,"  said  the  gipsy,  raising  her  hand. 

"  I  swear  it,"  replied  Charming. 

"  You  lie  !"  cried  the  stranger.  And  lo  !  a  box  on  the  ear 
blinded  the  prince ;  the  blow  was  repeated,  and  the  stranger 
fled. 

The  king  stepped  back  furious,  and  sought  the  hilt  of  his 
sword  ;  but  men  do  not  go  to  balls  armed  as  for  war ;  for  his 
sole  weapon  he  found  a  knot  of  ribbons.  He  ran  after  his 
enemy,  but  which  way  had  she  fled?/  Charming  lost  himself 
twenty  times  in  the  labyrinth ;  he  met  none  but  peaceful  dom- 
inos  walking  in  couples,  and  scarcely  glancing  at  him  as  he 
passed.  Breathless,  distracted,  and  desperate,  he  returned  to 
the  ball-room,  where  he  doubted  not  that  the  stranger  had 
taken  refuge  ;  but  how  was  he  to  find  her  ? 

A  brilliant  idea  crossed  the  prince's  mind ;  he  would  order 
all  to  unmask,  and  would  doubtless  see  the  gipsy,  confounded 
by  the  king's  presence  and  betrayed  by  her  own  agitation. 
He  instantly  leaped  on  a  chair,  and  exclaimed  in  a  loud  voice 
that  caused  every  one  to  start, 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  day  is  approaching  and  pleasure 
is  languishing  ;  let  us  revive  mirth  by  a  new  caprice.  Off 
with  the  masks  !  I  set  the  example  ;  let  all  who  love  me  fol- 
low it." 

He  threw  off  his  domino,  raised  his  mask,  and  appeared  in 
the  richest  and  most  elegant  Spanish  costume  ever  worn  by 
prince.  There  was  a  general  outcry ;  all  eyes  were  at  first 
turned  toward  the  king,  then  toward  the  black  domino  with 
pink  rosettes,  who  retreated  as  fast  as  possible  with  a  modesty 
that  was  not  affected.  All  unmasked.  The  ladies  gathered 
round  the  king,  who,  it  was  remarked,  had  the  most  violent 
fancy  for  the  gipsy  costume.  Young  or  old,  all  the  gipsies  re- 
ceived his  homage  ;  he  took  them  by  the  hand,  and  gazed  at 
them  with  an  air  which  made  all  the  other  masks  ready  to 


1 86  Fairy  Book. 

burst  with  envy,  then  made  a  sign  to  the  orchestra ;  the  dance 
recommenced,  and  the  prince  disappeared. 

He  hastened  again  to  the  elm-walk  in  search  of  the  trait- 
ress who  had  insulted  him,  doubtless  led  by  vengeance.  His 
blood  boiled  in  his  veins ;  he  wandered  at  random,  suddenly 
stopping  short,  looking,  listening,  and  spying  in  all  directions. 
At  the  faintest  gleam  of  light  through  the  foliage  he  sprang 
forward  like  a  madman,  laughing  and  weeping  at  the  same 
time  as  though  distracted. 

At  the  turn  of  an  alley  he  met  Rachimburg  advancing  to- 
ward him  trembling,  with  an  air  of  terror. 

"  Sire,"  murmured  he,  in  a  mysterious  voice,  "  has  your 
majesty  seen  it  ?" 

"  What  ?'|  asked  the  king. 

"  The  spectre  ;  it  passed  close  by  me.  I  am  a  lost  man  ;  I 
shall  die  to-morrow." 

"What  spectre?"  said  Charming.  "What  fool's  tale  are 
you  telling  me  ?" 

"  A  spectre — a  domino  with  flashing  eyes,  that  threw  me 
on  my  knees  and  boxed  my  ears  twice." 

"  It  is  she  !"  cried  the  king ;  "  it  is  she !  Why  did  you  let 
her  go  ?" 

"Your  majesty,  I  had  not  my  pike;  but  if  ever  I  see  her 
again,  I  will  knock  her  down." 

"  Do  no  such  thing !"  returned  the  king.  "  If  ever  she  re- 
turns, do  not  frighten  her ;  follow  her  and  discover  her  re- 
treat. But  where  is  she  ?  which  way  did  she  go  ?  Lead  me ; 
if  I  find  her  your  fortune  is  made." 

/      "  Sire,"  said  the  honest  porter,  looking  at  the  moon,  "  if  the 
j  spectre  is  any  where,  it  must  be  up  yonder ;  I  saw  it,  as  plain- 
ly as  I  see  your  majesty,  dissolving  in  mist.     But,  before  tak- 
ing flight,  it  gave  me  a  message  for  your  majesty." 

"What?     Speak  quickly!"     A 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     187 

"  Sire,  its  words  were  terrible ;  I  shall  never  dare  repeat 
them  to  your  majesty." 

"  Speak,  I  order  you." 

"  Sire,  the  spectre  said,  in  a  sepulchral  voice, '  Tell  the  king 
that  if  he  marries  again  he  is  a  dead  man.  The  loved  one 
will  return.'  " 

"  Here,"  said  the  prince,  whose  eyes  shone  with  a  strange 
lustre,  "  take  my  purse.  Henceforth  I  attach  you  to  my  per- 
son ;  I  appoint  you  my  first  attendant,  counting  on  your  devo- 
tion and  prudence.  Let  this  affair  remain  a  secret  between 
wSj 

"  That  makes  two,"  murmured  Rachimburg,  as  he  depart- 
ed with  a  firm  tread,  like  a  man  that  neither  suffers  himself 
to  be  cast  down  by  fear  or  dazzled  by  good  fortune.  He  was 
a  strong-minded  man. 

The  next  morning  the  court  gazette  contained  the  following 
lines,  in  the  form  of  a  letter  without  signature,  in  the  unoffi- 
cial part  of  the  paper : 

"A  rumor  has  been  spread  that  the  king  is  thinking  of 
marrying  again.  The  king  knows  what  he  owes  to  his  people, 
and  is  always  ready  to  sacrifice  himself  for  the  happiness  of 
his  subjects.  But  the  people  of  Wild  Oats  have  too  much 
delicacy  not  to  respect  a  recent  affliction.  The  king's  whole 
thoughts  are  fixed  on  his  beloved  wife  ;  he  hopes  the  consola- 
tion from  time  that  is  at  present  refused  him." 

This  note  threw  the  court  and  town  in  agitation.  The 
young  girls  thought  the  scruples  of  the  prince  exaggerated ; 
more  than  one  mother  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  said  that 
the  king  had  vulgar  prejudices  worthy  only  of  the  common 
people ;  but  at  night  there  was  strife  in  every  well-ordered 
household.  There  was  not  a  wife  of  any  pretensions  to  aris- 
tocratic birth  that  did  not  quarrel  with  her  unworthy  spouse, 
and  force  him  to  admit  that  there  was  but  one  heart  capable 


1 88  Fairy  Book. 

of  love,  and  but  one  faithful  husband  in  the  whole  kingdom, 
namely,  Prince  Charming. 


VII. 

TWO   CONSULTATIONS. 

AFTER  so  much  excitement,  the  king  was  seized  with  a  cruel 
fit  of  tediumjTo  divert  himself,  he  attempted  every  kind  of 
pleasure  ;  he  hunted,  he  presided  over  his  council,  he  went  to 
the  play  and  the  opera,  he  received  all  the  state  corporations 
with  their  wives,  he  read  a  Carthaginian  novel,  and  j^eyiewed 
the  troops  half  a  score  of  times ;  but  all  in  vain  :/an  inexo- 
rable memory,  an  ever-present  image  left  him  no  rest  or  peace. 
The  gipsy  pursued  him  even  in  his  dreams ;  he  saw  her,  he 
talked  to  her,  and  she  listened  to  him ;  but,  by  some  unac- 
countable fatality,  as  soon  as  she  raised  her  mask,  Pazza's 
pale,  sad  face  always  appeared. 

The  doctor  was  the  only  confidant  to  whom  Charming 
could  avow  his  remorse,  but  at  this  word  Wieduwillst  burst 
into  laughter. 

"  The  effect  of  habit,  sire,"  he  said.  "  Gain  time,  multiply 
impressions,  and  all  will  be  effaced." 

To  procure  the  prince  excitement  and  to  drive  away  sorrow 
by  a  bold  diversion,  the  doctor  supped  every  evening  alone 
with  his  majesty,  and  poured  out  intoxication  and  forgetful- 
ness  with  a  liberal  hand.  Wieduwillst  did  not  spare  himself, 
but  wine  had  little  effect  on  his  strong  brain  ;  he  would  Jiave 
defied  Bacchus  and  Silenus  together  with  Charming.  [While 
the  prince,  by  turn  noisy  and  silent,  plunged  into  the  extremes 
of  joy  and  sadness,  always  restless  and  never  happy,  Wiedu- 
willst, calm  and  smiling,  directed  his  thoughts,  and,  through 
pure  goodness  of  soul,  took  upon  himself  all  the  fatigue  and 
care  of  the  government. 


they: 

frh 

i    ter. 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     189 

Three  decrees  had  already  placed  in  his  hands  the  police, 
the  courts,  and  the  finances.  The  doctor  well  understood 
all  the  advantages  of  centralization.  The  way  in  which  he 
administered  the  taxes  relieved  him  from  all  personal  anxiety 
for  the  future.  The  courts  punished  those  who  clamored  too 
loudly ;  the  police  silenced  those  who  whispered  too  much. 
Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  the  ability  of  these  political  schemes, 
the  people,  always  ungrateful,  did  not  appreciate  their  happi- 
ness. The  inhabitants  of  Wild  Oats  delight  in  complaining ; 
the  pleasure  was  spoiled  for  them.  King  Bizarre's  name  was 
in  all  hearts,  and  every  one  regretted  the  good  old  times  when 
they^shouted  over  the  roof-tops  that  they  were  gagged. 

The  doctor  was  ambitious  ;  he  was  born  for  a  prime  minis- 
ter. Every  morning  some  new  ordinance  made  the  people 
feel  that  the  king  was  nothing  and  the  minister  every  thing. 
Charming  was  the  only  one  that  did  not  perceive  his  nothing- 
ness. Shut  up  in  his  palace,  and  dying  of  ennui,  his  sole  com- 
panion was  a  page  placed  near  him  by  the  prime  minister  on 
Rachimburg's  recommendation.  Frolicsome,  chattering,  and 
indiscreet,  a  good  musician  and  capital  card-player,  Tonto,  for 
that  was  the  page's  name,  amused  the  king  by  his  pranks ;  he 
pleased  the  prime  minister  no  less,  but  by  other  virtues.  J  De- 
voted to  his  benefactor,  the  good-natured  page  innocently  re- 
peated to  him  the  most  trifling  words  of  the  prince — an  easy 
task,  moreover,  as  the  king  was  constantly  dreaming  and  never 
spoke. 

•h 

t  is  a  fine  thing  to  have  the  advantages  of  power ;  but  ap- 
petite comes  by  eating  even  with  ministers.  The  ambitious 
doctor  began  to  desire  both  the  honors  and  lustre  of  royalty. 
Charming's  best  friend  did  not  once  think  of  dethroning  him  ; 
nations  sometimes  have  foolish  prejudices  and  cling  to  old 
habits,  but  nothing  was  easier  than  to  frighten  a  sick  prince, 
and  send  him  afar  off  in  search  of  a  cure  that  would  be  long 


190  Fairy  Book. 

in  coming,  while  in  his  absence  the  doctor  would  reign  as  his 
proxy. 

Charming  was  young ;  he  still  clung  to  life,  and,  moreover, 
how  could  he  resist  the  tender  solicitude  of  the  good  doctor  ? 
The  three  most  renowned  physicians  of  the  faculty  met  one 


evening  in  consultation  at  the  palace — long  Tristram,  fat  Jo- 
cundus,  and  little  Guilleret,  three  celebrated  men — three  gen- 
iuses who  had  made  their  fortune,  each  with  one  idea,  which 
had  been  the  reason  why  they  had  never  had  any  more. 

After  the  king  had  been  cross-questioned,  looked  at,  han- 
dled, auscultated,  and  turned  round  again  and  again,  Tristram 
spoke  first,  in  a  rude  voice, 

"  Sire,"  said  he,  "  you  must  be  bled  like  a  peasant,  and  live 
without  any  exertion  whatever.  Your  disease  is  a  deficiency 
of  blood,  a  constitutional  atony.  Nothing  but  a  journey  to  the 
Clear  Waters  can  cure  you.  Go  quickly,  or  you  are  a  dead 
man.  You  have  my  opinion." 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     191 

"  Sire,"  said  fat  Jocundus,  "  I  fully  share  the  admirable 
opinion  of  my  dear  professional  brother.  You  are  suffering 
from  superabundant  vitality.  Your  disease  is  a  constitutional 
plethora.  Go,  drink  the  Clear  Waters,  and  you  will  be  a  well 
man  again.  You  have  my  opinion." 

"  Sire,"  said  little  Guilleret, "  the  diagnostic  of  my  masters 
fills  me  with  admiration.  I  bow  before  their  learning.  Like 
them,  I  believe  that  you  are  suffering  from  disorder  of  the 
sympathetic  nerves.  Your  disease  is  a  constitutional  nervous- 
ness. Drink  the  Clear  Waters.  Go  quickly,  or  you  are  a  dead 
man.  You  have  my  opinion." 

A  unanimous  opinion  was  drawn  up  and  immediately  car- 
ried to  the  court  gazette  by  Tonto ;  and  the  three  doctors 
rose,  bowed  to  the  minister  and  the  king,  shook  hands  with 
each  other,  and  went  down  stairs  quarreling  or  laughing,  I 
know  not  which  ;  the  chronicle  is  almost  illegible,  owing  to  a 
large  blot  in  this  place. 

After  the  three  physicians  had  gone,  Wieduwillst  read  the 

(opinion,  reflected  deeply,  and  looked  at  the  king, •  Charming, 
who  had  supped  a  little  better  this  evening  even  than  usual, 
had  not  once  listened  to  the  doctors,  but  sat  gazing  around 
him  with  bloodshot  eyes. 

"  Sire,"  said  he,  "  it  is  the  unanimous  opinion  of  these  gen- 
tlemen that,  if  you  wish  to  be  cured,  you  must  go  to  the  Clear 
Waters  and  abandon  the  affairs  of  state.  Such  a  resolution 
appears  to  me  unworthy  of  your  royal  majesty.  A  great  prince 
should  sacrifice  himself  for  his  people,  and — " 

"  Enough,"  said  the  king ;  "  spare  me  this  worn-out  moral- 
izing, and  come  to  the  conclusion.  You  wish  me  to  go,  my 
good  friend ;  you  are  dying  for  me  to  do  so,  for  my  own  inter- 
est, of  course.  Draw  up  a  decree  placing  the  regency  in  your 
hands,  and  I  will  sign  it." 

"  Sire,  the  decree  is  here,  in  your  portfolio ;  a  good  minister 


1 92  Fairy  Book. 

always  has  papers  drawn  up  to  suit  whatever  circumstances 
may  arise.     He  never  knows  what  may  happen." 

Charming  took  the  pen,  carelessly  signed  the  decree  with- 
out reading  it,  and  handed  it  to  the  minister,  who  approached 
to  receive  it  with  a  smile ;  then,  seized  with  a  new  caprice,  he 
drew  back  the  paper  and  read  it. 

"  What !"  said  he,  "  no  statement  of  reasons ;  nothing  to 
assure  my  people  of  the  kindness  I  bear  them  !  Doctor,  you 
are  too  modest ;  to-morrow  this  decree  shall  be  in  the  gazette, 
with  a  statement  from  the  hand  of  your  friend  and  master. 
Good-night ;  these  gentlemen  have  tired  me." 

The  doctor  went  out  with  a  light  step,  erect  brow,  and 
sparkling  eye,  prouder  and  more  insolent  than  ever.  Charm- 
ing sunk  again  into  his  reverie,  thinking  that,  in  spite  of  all, 
he  was  not  the  most  unhappy  of  princes,  since  Heaven  had 
given  .him  such  a  friend. 

All  at  once  the  strangest  little  doctor  that  had  ever  been 

It  seen  in  a  castle  entered  the  king's  apartment  unannounced. 

1  He  wore  a  wig  with  long  white  curls,  his  snow-white  beard 

fell  on  his  breast,  and  his  eyes  were  so  bright  and  youthful 

that  it  seemed  as  though  they  must  have  come  into  the  world 

sixty  years  after  the  rest  of  his  body. 

"  Where  are  those  knaves  ?"  cried  he,  with  a  shrill  voice, 
rapping  on  the  floor  with  his  cane.  "Where  are  those  ig- 
norant fellows,  those  pedants,  those  ill-bred  men  that  did  not 
wait  for  me  ?  Ah !  so  you  are  the  patient,"  said  he  to  the 
stupefied  king.  "  That  is  good ;  put  out  your  tongue.  Quick ! 
I  am  in  a  hurry." 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  asked  the  king. 

"  I  am  Doctor  Truth,  the  greatest  doctor  in  the  world,  as 
you  will  soon  see,  in  spite  of  my  modesty.    Ask  Wieduwillst, 
my  pupil,  who  sent  for  me  from  the  Land  of  Dreams.     I  cure    , 
every  body,  even  those  who  are  not  ill.     Put  out  your  tongue  \\ 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     193 

that's  right.  Where  is  the  opinion  ?  Very  well.  Atony — 
asinis  !  Plethora — asini!  Nerypusness — asinorum!  Drink 
the  Clear  Waters — asininum  !\  Do  you  know  what  is  your  dis- 
ease ?  It  is  vexation,  and  even  worse." 

"  Do  you  see  that  ?"  said  Charming,  terrified. 

"  Yes,  my  son,  it  is  written  on  your  tongue.  But  I  will  cure 
you  :  it  shall  be  done  by  to-morrow  noon." 

"  To-morrow !"  said  the  king.     "  All  my  treasures — " 

"  Silence,  my  son.  What  portfolio  is  that  ? — the  minister's  ? 
Good.  Sign  these  three  papers  for  me." 

"  They  are  blank  decrees,"  said  the  king.  "  What  do  you 
wish  to  do  with  them  ?" 

"  They  are  my  ordinances.  Sign.  Well  done,  my  son  ;  be 
obedient,  and  to-morrow  noon  you  shall  be  as  gay  as  a  lark. 
First  ordinance  :  If  you  would  live  at  peace,  appear  at  peace  ; 
I  suppress  six  regiments.  Second  ordinance  :  A  penny  in  a 
peasant's  pocket  is  worth  twenty  in  the  king's  treasury;  I 
suppress  one  fourth  of  the  taxes.  Third  ordinance  :  Liberty 
is  like  the  sunshine — it  is  the  happiness  and  fortune  of  the 
poor ;  I  throw  open  the  political  prisons  and  demolish  the 
debtors'  prisons.  You  are  laughing,  my  son  ;  it  is  a  good  sign 
when  a  patient  laughs  at  his  doctor." 

"  Yes,"  said  Charming,  "  I  am  laughing  to  think  of  Wiedu- 
willst's  face  to-morrow  on  reading  these  ordinances  in  the 
court  gazette.  Enough  of  these  follies,  buffoon  doctor ;  give 
me  back  the  papers  and  put  an  end  to  this  farce." 

"  What  is  this  ?"  said  the  little  man,  taking  up  the  decree  of 
the  regency.  "  God  forgive  me !  it  is  an  abdication.  What 
are  you  thinking  of,  Prince  Charming  ?  What !  the  inherit- 
ance bequeathed  to  you  by  your  fathers,  the  people  intrusted 
to  you  by  God,  your  name,  your  honor,  will  you  throw  all  these 
at  the  feet  of  an  adventurer  ?  Will  you  let  yourself  be  de- 

I 


194  Fairy  Book. 

throned  and  duped  by  a  deceiver  ?  Impossible  !  It  does  not 
suit  me  ;  I  oppose  it.  Do  you  hear  ?'^/ 

"  What  insolent  fellow  addresses^  his  prince  in  this  way  ?" 

"  Politeness  is  not  in  words.  Charming,  are  you  mad  ?  are 
you  dreaming  ?  Are  you  wholly  without  heart,?'' 

"  This  is  too  much !"  cried  the  king.  !"  Begone,  wretch,  or  I 
will  throw  you  out  of  the  window." 

"  Begone  !"  said  the  little  doctor,  in  a  shrill  voice.  "  No,  not 
till  I  have  destroyed  this  mad  and  stupid  document.  See,  I 
tear  your  abdication  in  pieces  and  trample  it  under  foot !" 

Charming  seized  the  madman  and  called  his  guards.  No 
one  answered.  The  little  man  struggled  with  wonderful 
strength.  With  his  foot  he  threw  the  lamp  on  the  ground ; 
but  the  king,  despite  the  darkness,  kept  fast  hold  of  the  sor- 
cerer, who  felt  his  strength  failing. 

"  Let  me  go !"  murmured  he ;  "  for  Heaven's  sake  let  me 
go !  You  know  not  what  you  are  doing.  You  are  breaking 
my  arm." 

His  words  and  prayers  were  useless.  Suddenly  a  shower 
of  blows,  dealt  by  a  strong  hand,  fell  on  the  king's  ears. 
Charming  let  go  his  hold  in  surprise,  and  turned  to  attack  his 
invisible  enemy.  He  found  nothing  but  empty  space,  and, 
staggering  in  the  darkness,  cried  loudly  for  the  help  that  did 
not  come.  Such  a  thing  could  not  have  happened  in  a  min- 
ister's house ;  kings  are  always  worse  guarded. 


VIII. 

THE   END   OF   A   DREAM. 

AT  last  a  door  opened,  and  Rachimburg  entered,  according 
to  etiquette,  to  undress  the  king.  The  faithful  servant  ap- 
peared greatly  vexed  to  find  him  without  a  light,  groping 
along  the  wall. 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     195 

"  Where  is  that  infernal  doctor  ?"  asked  Charming,  foaming 
with  rage. 

"  It  is  more  than  an  hour,  sire,  since  his  excellency  quitted 
the  palace  ?" 

"  Who  is  talking  of  Wieduwillst  ?"  cried  the  king.  "  Which 
way  did  the  villain  go  that  just  insulted  me  ?" 

Rachimburg  looked  at  the  prince  with  a  contrite  air,  and 
raised  his  eyes  to  heaven,  sighing. 

"  A  man  went  out  of  the  door  that  leads  to  your  rooms," 
said  Charming.  "  How  did  he  enter,  and  where  has  he  fled  ?" 

"  Sire,"  said  Rachimburg,  "  I  have  neither  quitted  my  post 
nor  seen  any  one." 

"  I  tell  you  that  a  man  was  in  this  room  a  moment  ago." 

"  Sire,  your  majesty  is  never  mistaken ;  if  a  man  was  in  this 
room  he  is  here  still,  unless  he  has  flown  through  the  window, 
or  your  majesty  has  been  dreaming." 

"  Fool,  do  I  look  like  a  man  that  has  been  dreaming  ?  Did 
I  overturn  this  lamp  ?  did  I  tear  these  papers  ?" 

"  Sire,  I  am  nothing  but  a  worm  of  the  earth ;  God  forbid 
that  I  should  contradict  my  sovereign.  Your  majesty  does 
not  hire  me  to  give  him  the  lie.  But  this  year  strange  dreams 
are  an  epidemic.  No  one  knows  what  he  may  do  or  suffer  in 
his  sleep.  Only  just  now  I  was  overtaken  with  sleep  in  spite 
of  myself,  and  if  I  were  not  sure  that  I  was  dreaming,  I  should 
declare  that  an  invisible  hand  boxed  my  ears  twice,  at  which 
I  awakened  with  a  start." 

"  It  was  the  spectre  !"  said  the  king. 

"  Your  majesty  is  right,"  replied  Rachimburg ;  "  I  am  noth- 
ing but  a  simpleton  ;  it  was  the  spectre." 

"  And  I  did  not  know  her !"  resumed  Charming.  "  Never- 
theless, it  was  her  voice  and  air.  What  does  this  mean  ?  Is 
it  a  new  insult  ?  Is  it  a  warning  from  heaven  ?  Does  some 
danger  threaten  me  ?  No  matter,  I  will  remain  in  my  king- 


196  Fairy  Book. 

dom.  My  friend,  not  a  word  of  all  this  :  take  this  purse,  and 
keep  the  secret." 

"That  makes  the  third,"  murmured  the  faithful  Rachim- 
burg,  as  he  undressed  the  king  with  a  zeal  and  address  which 
several  times  made  his  majesty  smile. 

So  many  emotions  one  after  another  banished  sleep ;  it  was 
daybreak  before  the  prince  dozed,  and  broad  daylight  before 
he  awoke.  In  the  first  moment  between  sleeping  and  waking 
Charming  fancied  that  he  heard  a  strange  noise — bells  ring- 
ing, cannon  firing,  and  three  or  four  bands  of  music  playing 
each  a  different  air.  He  was  not  mistaken ;  it  was  an  infer- 
nal hubbub.  The  king  rang  :  Rachimburg  entered,  carrying 
a  bouquet  of  flowers. 

"Sire,"  said  he,  "will  his  majesty  permit  the  humblest  of 
his  servants  to  be  the  first  to  express  to  him  the  universal 
joy?  Your  people  are  intoxicated  with  love  and  gratitude. 
The  taxes  lessened,  the  prisons  opened,  the  army  reduced ! 
Sire,  you  are  the  greatest  prince  in  the  world ;  never  has  earth 
seen  a  ruler  like  you.  Show  yourself  at  the  balcony ;  answer 
these  cries  of  '  Hurrah  for  the  king !'  Smile  on  the  people 
that  bless  you." 

Rachimburg  could  not  finish ;  tears  choked  his  voice.  He 
attempted  to  wipe  his  eyes,  but,  in  his  excitement,  he  took  the 
gazette  from  his  pocket  instead  of  a  handkerchief,  and  began 
to  kiss  it  like  a  madman. 

Charming  took  the  journal,  and  vainly  attempted,  while 
dressing,  to  collect  his  ideas.  By  what  chance  had  these  in- 
sane ordinances  found  their  way  into  the  official  journal? 
Who  had  sent  them  ?  Why  did  not  Wieduwillst  make  his  ap- 
pearance? The  prince  wished  to  reflect,  consult,  and  ques- 
tion ;  but  the  people  were  under  the  windows,  and  their  maj- 
esties were  too  impatient  to  wait. 

As  soon  as  the  king  appeared  in  the  balcony  he  was  greeted 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     197 

with  shouts  of  enthusiasm  which,  despite  every  thing,  thrilled 
his  heart.  Men  tossed  their  caps  in  the  air,  women  waved 
their  handkerchiefs,  mothers  lifted  up  their  children  and  made 
them  stretch  their  innocent  hands  to  heaven,  and  repeat, "Hur- 
rah for  the  king !"  The  guns  of  the  palace  guards  were  decked 
with  flowers,  the  drums  beat,  and  the  officers'  swords  flashed 
in  the  sun.  It  was  a  scene  of  delirious  joy.  Charming  was 
infected  by  the  general  emotion ;  he  wept  without  exactly 
knowing  why.  At  that  instant  the  clock  struck  noon.  The 
spectre  was  right — the  prince  was  cured.  / 

After  the  crowd  it  was  the  turn  of  the  corporations,  all  of 
whom,  the  ministers  at  the  head,  came  to  congratulate  and 
thank  the  king  for  having  so  well  understood  the  wishes  of  his 
faithful  counselors.  A  single  person  was  lacking,  namely, 
Wieduwillst.  None  knew  where  he  had  hidden  his  ignorance 
and  spite.  A  mysterious  note  received  by  him  that  morning 
had  occasioned  his  flight,  yet  this  note  contained  only  the 
words,  The  king  knows  all!  Who  had  written  this  fatal  letter  ? 
Not  the  prince ;  he  alone,  perhaps,  in  the  palace,  thought  of 
the  minister,  and  wondered  at  not  seeing  him  by  his  side. 

All  at  once  Tonto  entered,  pale  and  haggard.  He  ran  to 
the  king,  and  gave  him  a  letter  which  an  officer  had  brought 
at  full  gallop.  The  governor  of  the  province,  General  Bay 
onet,  sent  terrible  news  ;  the  six  disbanded  regiments  had 
mutinied,  headed  by  Wieduwillst.  The  rebels  had  proclaimed 
the  downfall  of  the  king,  whom  they  accused  of  abominable 
crimes,  especially  of  the  murder  of  the  queen.  Numerous 
and  well  commanded,  they  were  approaching  the  city,  which 
was  defended  only  by  a  few  doubtful  and  disaffected  regi- 
ments. Bayonet  entreated  the  king  to  come  instantly  and 
take  command ;  an  hour  later,  and  all  would  be  lost. 

Hurried  on  by  Tonto  and  Rachimburg,  the  king  secretly 
quitted  the  palace,  followed  by  a  few  officers.  \  A  proclama- 


198  Fairy  Book. 

tion,  placarded  on  all  the  walls  of  the  city  and  at  every  corner 
of  the  streets,  declared  that  there  was  no  truth  in  the  rumors 
spread  by  a  few  malicious  persons,  and  that  the  army  had 
never  been  more  devoted  or  faithful.  Upon  this  there  was 
a  universal  panic ;  stocks  fell  fifty  per  cent,  in  half  an  hour, 
and  did  not  rise  again  till  unofficial  news  arrived  that  the  king 
had  been  well  received  at  head-quarters. 


IX. 

HEROIC   REMEDIES   FOR   GREAT   EVILS. 

THE  news  was  false ;  the  prince  had  been  received  with 
great  coldness.  It  was  his  own  fault.  Sad,  despondent,  and 
abstracted,  Charming  had  neither  found  a  jest  for  the  soldiers 
nor  a  word  of  trust  for  the  officers.  He  entered  the  general's 
tent  and  fell  into  a  chair.  Tonto  was  little  less  disheartened. 

"  Sire,"  said  Bayonet,  "  permit  me  to  speak  to  you  with  the 
frankness  of  a  soldier  and  the  freedom  of  an  old  friend.  The 
army  is  murmuring  and  hesitating ;  we  must  secure  it,  or  all 
is  lost.  The  enemy  is  in  sight ;  we  must  attack  him.  Five 
minutes  sometimes  decide  the  fate  of  empires ;  it  is  so  with 
us  now.  Do  not  wait  till  it  is  too  late." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  king.  "  To  horse  !  in  an  instant  I 
will  be  with  you." 

Left  alone  with  Tonto  and  Rachimburg,  the  king  exclaimed, 
in  despair, "  My  good  friends,  quit  a  master  who  can  do  no 
more  for  you.  I  shall  not  dispute  my  wretched  life  with  my 
enemies.  Betrayed  in  friendship  and  treacherously  assas- 
sinated, I  recognize  in  my  misfortune  the  hand  of  an  aven- 
ging God.  It  is  in  punishment  for  my  crime.  I  killed  the 
queen  in  my  stupid  vengeance ;  the  hour  has  come  to  expiate 
my  fault,  and  I  am  ready." 

"  Sire,"  said  Tonto,  trying  to  smile,  "  shake  off  these  sad 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     1 99 

thoughts.  If  the  queen  were  here  she  would  tell  you  to  de- 
fend yourself.  Believe  me,"  he  added,  twisting  his  budding 
mustache,  "  I  am  acquainted  with  women !  Were  they  dead, 
they  would  still  love  to  avenge  themselves.  Besides,  you  did 
not  kill  the  queen ;  and  perhaps  she  is  not  so  dead  as  you 
imagine." 

"  What  do  you  say  ?"  exclaimed  the  king  ;  "  you  are  losing 
your  reason." 

"  I  say  that  there  are  women  who  die  expressly  to  enrage 
their  husbands ;  why  should  there  not  be  those  that  would 
rise  from  the  dead  to  enrage  them  still  more?  Leave  the 
dead,  and  think  of  the  living  who  love  you.  You  are  a  king ; 
fight  like  a  king,  and,  if  necessary,  fall  like  a  king."; 

"  Sire,"  said  Bayonet,  entering,  sword  in  hand,  "  time 
presses." 

"  General,  to  horse  !"  cried  Tonto  ;  "  let  us  go." 

Bayonet  quitted  the  room  to  give  the  needful  orders.  When 
he  was  gone,  Charming  looked  at  Tonto  and  said,  f  No,  I  will 
not  go.  I  do  not  understand  my  feelings ;  I  abhor  myself. 
I  am  not  afraid  of  death ;  I  am  going  to  kill  myself;  never- 
theless, I  will  not  fight." 

"  Sire,"  said  Tonto,  "  in  Heaven's  name,  summon  up  your 
courage.  To  horse  !  Great  God  !"  he  exclaimed,  wringing 
his  hands,  "the  prince  will  not  listen  to  me;  we  are  lost. 
Come  !"  said  he,  taking  hold  of  Charming's  cloak ;  "up,  sire  ; 
to  horse,  unhappy  prince !  Save  your  kingdom — save  your 
people — save  all  that  love  you.  Coward  !  look  at  me  ;  I  am 
nothing  but  a  child,  yet  I  am  about  to  die  for  you.  Fight !  do 
not  disgrace  yourself.  If  you  do  not  rise  I  will  insult  you — 
I,  your  servant.  You  are  a  coward ;  do  you  hear  ?  a  cow- 
ard!" 

And  behold,  the  insolent  page  boxed  the  king's  ears.  / 

"S'death!"  cried  Charming,  drawing  his  sword."  "Before 

' 


2OO  Fairy  Book. 

dying  I  will  have  the  pleasure  of  punishing  one  subject,  at 
least." 

But  the  page  had  left  the  tent.  With  one  bound  he  sprang 
into  the  saddle  and  galloped  toward  the  enemy,  sword  in 
hand,  crying,  u  The  king !  my  friends — the  king !  Sound  the 
trumpets !  Forward !" 

Charming,  mad  with  anger,  spurred  his  horse  in  pursuit  of 
the  page  :  like  a  bull  at  the  sight  of  a  red  flag,  he  rushed  for- 
ward, head  downward,  caring  neither  for  death  nor  danger. 
Bayonet  rushed  after  the  king,  and  the  army  after  the  general. 
It  was  the  finest  cavalry  charge  ever  known  in  history. 

At  the  noise  of  the  squadrons,  which  shook  the  ground  like 
thunder,  the  enemy,  surprised,  scarcely  had  time  to  form  in 
line  of  battle.  One  man,  however,  had  recognized  the  king — 
the  infamous  Wieduwillst  Charming  was  alone ;  wholly  ab- 
sorbed in  his  vengeance,  he  saw  nothing  but  the  page  whom 
he  was  pursuing.  The  traitor  threw  himself  on  the  prince, 
sword  in  hand,  and  would  have  slain  him  at  one  stroke  had 
not  Tonto,  plunging  his  spurs  into  the  flanks  of  his  horse, 
made  the  animal  rear  and  fall  on  Wieduwillst.  The  page  re- 
ceived the  blow  intended  for  his  master.  He  threw  up  his 
arms  and  fell  with  a  loud  cry;  but  his  fall,  at  least,  was 
avenged.  The  king  thrust  his  sword  into  the  throat  of  the 
treacherous  physician^nd  drew  it  forth,  dripping  with  blood, 
not  without  pleasure.  Man  is  decidedly  the  king  of  wild 
beasts. 

The  traitor's  death  decided  the  fate  of  the  day.  The  royal 
army,  electrified  by  the  heroism  of  its  leader,  soon  dispersed 
the  straggling  battalions.  The  rebels,  having  nothing  more 
to  hope,  sued  for  pardon,  and  their  prayer  was  granted  by  the 
happy  and  clement  king.  \ 

An  hour  after  quitting  the  camp  where  he  had  wished  to 
die,  Charming  returned  in  triumph,  bringing  with  him  con- 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     201 

querors  and  conquered,  all  blended  in  the  same  ranks,  the 
former  loudly  protesting  their  loyalty,  the  latter  overpowering 
them  with  their  enthusiasm.  Nothing  sharpens  devotion  so 
much  as  a  little  treason. 


X. 

IN   WHICH   WE   SEE   THAT   IT  IS   WRONG  TO  JUDGE  ACCORDING 
TO  APPEARANCES,  AND  THAT   TONTO   WAS   NOT  TONTO. 

THE  king  entered  his  tent  to  rest  a  moment,  when  the  sight 
of  Rachimburg  reminded  him  of  Tonto. 

"  Is  the  page  dead  ?"  he  asked. 

"  No,  sire,"  answered  Rachimburg ;  "  unfortunately  for  him, 
he  is  still  living ;  he  is  hopeless.  I  ordered  him  carried  to  his 
aunt's,  the  Countess  de  Castro's,  close  by  here." 

"Is  he  the  countess's  nephew?"  said  the  king.  "I  was 
never  told  of  it." 

"  Your  majesty  has  forgotten  it,"  replied  Rachimburg,  qui- 
etly. "  The  poor  child  is  fatally  wounded  in  the  shoulder ;  he 
can  not  recover.  It  would  give  him  great  happiness  could  he 
see  your  majesty  before  he  dies." 

"  Very  well,"  returned  the  king ;  "  lead  me  to  him." 

On  his  arrival  at  the  castle  Charming  was  met  by  the  count- 
ess, who  conducted  him  to  a  darkened  room.  The  page  was 
stretched,  pale  and  bleeding,  on  a  couch  ;  nevertheless,  he  had 
strength  to  raise  his  head  and  welcome  the  king. 

"  What  a  miracle !"  exclaimed  Charming.  "  This  is  the 
strangest  wound  that  I  ever  saw  in  my  life  :  one  side  of  Ton- 
to's  mustache  is  gone  !" 

"  Sire,"  said  the  countess,  "  the  blade  of  the  sword  probably 
swept  off  one  side.  Nothing  is  so  capricious  as  sword  wounds, 
as  every  one  knows." 

"  How  strange  !"  cried  the  king.    "  On  one  side  it  is  Tonto, 

12 


2O2  Fairy  Book. 

my  page,  my  insolent  subject, 
and  on  the  other  it  is — no,  I 
am  not  mistaken — it  is  you, 
my  good  angel  and  my  savior  • 
it  is  you,  my  poor  Pazza !" 

He  fell  on  his  knees  and 
seized  her  hand,  which  lay  on 
the  coverlet. 

"  Sire,"  said  Pazza,  "  my  days  are  numbered,  but  before  dy- 
ing—" 

"  No,  no,  Pazza,  you  shall  not  die,"  cried  the  king,  in  tears. 
"  Before  dying,"  she  added,  casting  down  her  eyes,  "  I  hope 
that  your  majesty  will  forgive  me  the  box  on  the  ear  which  I 
gave  you  this  morning  in  indiscreet  zeal — " 

"  Enough,"  said   the   king ;  "  I  forgive   you.     After  all,  a 
throne  and  honor  were  well  worth — what  I  received." 
"Alas  !"  said  Pazza,  "that  is  not  all." 
"  What !"  exclaimed  Charming,  "  is  there  any  thing  more  !" 
"  Oh,  sire,  what  have  you  done  ?"  cried  the  countess  ;  "  my 
child  is  dying !" 

"  My  Pazza,  you  must  not  die !"  exclaimed  the  king.  "  Speak, 
and  be  sure  that  I  forgive  in  advance  all  you  have  done.  Alas ! 
it  is  I  that  have  need  of  forgiveness." 

"  Sire,  the  little  doctor  who  took  the  liberty  of  boxing  your 
majesty's  ears — " 

"  Was  it  you  that  sent  him  ?"  asked  Charming,  with  a  frown. 
"  No,  sire,  I  myself  was  he.     Ah  !  what  would  I  not  have 
done  to  save  my  king!     It  was  I  who,  to  save  your  majesty 
from  the  traitorous  knaves  that  surrounded  you,  took  the  lib- 
erty of  boxing  your  ears — " 

"  Enough,"  said  Charming ;  "  I  forgive  you,  though  the  les- 
son was  a  harsh  one." 

"  Alas !  this  is  not  all,"  said  Pazza. 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.    203 

"  What,  more  !"  cried  the  king,  rising. 

"  Oh,  aunt,  I  am  dying !"  exclaimed  Pazza.  By  dint  of 
care,  however,  she  was  restored  to  life  ;  and,  turning  her  lan- 
guishing eyes  toward  the  king,  "  Sire,"  said  she,  "  the  gipsy 
girl  at  the  masked  ball,  who  dared  to  box  your  ears — " 

"  Was  yourself,  Pazza  ?"  said  Charming.  "  Oh,  I  forgive 
you  for  that;  I  well  deserved  it.  How  could  I  doubt  you, 
who  are  sincerity  itself!  But,  now  I  think  of  it,  do  you  re- 
member the  rash  vow  that  you  made  on  the  night  of  our  mar- 
riage ?  You  have,  kept  your  promise,  it  is  for  me  to  keep 
mine.  Pazza,  make  haste  to  recover,  and  return  to  the  castle 
from  which  happiness  fled  with  you." 

"  I  have  a  last  favor  to  ask  of  your  majesty,"  said  Pazza. 
"  Rachimburg  was  the  witness  this  morning  of  a  scene  for 
which  I  blush,  and  of  which  all  must  remain  ignorant.  I 
commend  this  faithful  servant  to  your  goodness." 

"  Rachimburg,"  said  the  king,  "  take  this  purse,  and  keep 
the  secret  under  penalty  of  your  head." 


2O4  Fairy  Book. 

"That  makes  the  fourth,"  whispered  Rachimburg  to  him- 
self; "my  fortune  is  made." 

In  a  few  moments  Pazza  was  asleep.  "  Do  you  think  that 
she  will  recover  ?''  asked  Charming,  anxiously,  of  the  countess. 

"  Bah !"  said  the  old  lady.  "  No  matter  how  ill  a  woman 
may  be,  happiness  will  bring  her  back  from  the  brink  of  the 
grave.  Kiss  the  queen,  my  nephew ;  it  will  do  her  more  good 
than  all  the  doctors  in  the  world." 

Charming  stooped  and  kissed  the  sleeping  Pazza.  An  an- 
gelic smile  stole  over  her  features,  at  the  sight  of  which  he 
wept  like  a  child. 

XL 

A   WIFE   SHOULD   OBEY   HER   HUSBAND. 

THE  countess  was  right  (women  are  always  right — past 
sixty).  A  fortnight  of  happiness  set  Pazza  on  her  feet  again, 
and  enabled  her  to  make  a  triumphant  entry  into  the  city  with 
the  king,  her  husband.  Her  paleness,  and  her  wounded  arm, 
which  she  carried  in  a  sling,  added  to  her  grace  and  beauty. 
Charming  had  eyes  for  no  one  but  the  queen,  and  the  people's 
looks  followed  the  king's,  i 

They  were  more  than  aA  hour  in  reaching  the  castle.  The 
magistrates  had  erected  not  less  than  three  triumphal  arches, 
frowning  fortresses,  defended  each  by  thirty-six  deputations 
and  thirty-six  speeches.  The  first  arch,  made  of  trellis-work, 
and  adorned  with  leaves  and  flowers,  bore  the  inscription, 

-    TO   THE   MOST   TENDER   AND    FAITHFUL   OF    HUSBANDS. 

This  was  intrusted  to  the  keeping  of  five  or  six  thousand 
young  girls,  dressed  in  white,  with  pink  ribbons,  representing 
the  spring  of  the  year,  the  hope  of  the  future,  welcoming  Glory 
and  Beauty. 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     205 

The  second  arch,  more  solidly  built,  was  a  frame  covered 
with  tapestry,  surmounted  by  Justice,  with  her  eyes  bandaged 
and  her  scales  in  her  hand. 

On  the  pedestal  of  the  statue  was  written, 

TO   THE   FATHER   OF   HIS   PEOPLE, 
THE    BEST   AND    WISEST   OF    PRINCES. 

A  host  of  priests,  statesmen,  and  magistrates,  in  robes  of 
all  colors,  represented  Religion,  Wisdom,  and  Virtue  ;  at  least 
so  said  these  venerable  and  discreet  personages,  who  are  never 
in  error. 

Last  came  an  immense  arch,  a  true  military  trophy,  bearing 
as  its  motto, 

TO   THE   BOLDEST  AND   MOST  VALIANT  OF   KINGS. 

Here  the  army  awaited  its  general,  and  the  queen  was  sa- 
luted by  the  majestic  voice  of  a  hundred  cannon  and  two 
hundred  drums — a  voice  before  which  all  human  eloquence 
falters,  and  which  always  has  the  last  word. 

I  spare  you  a  description  of  the  dinner,  which  was  intermin- 
able, and  of  sixty  more  speeches  from  the  court  gazette,  where 
they  had  already  done  service  two  or  three  times,  and  where- 
in they  were  again  deposited  for  the  use  of  future  generations. 
There  is  nothing  so  monotonous  as  happiness,  and  we  must 
be  indulgent  to  those  who  sing  its  praises  officially.  In  such 
cases,  the  ablest  is  he  who  says  the  least. 

The  long  evening,  during  which  the  king  had  lavished  his 
most  gracious  smiles  on  those  whom  he  despised  at  the  bot- 
tom of  his  heart,  was  at  length  at  an  end,  and  Charming  led 
Pazza,  no  longer  to  a  dungeon,  but  to  a  magnificent  apart- 
ment, where  a  new  surprise  awaited  her.  At  the  bottom  of 
the  room  was  an  illuminated  transparency,  on  which  were 
written  lines  so  bad  that  a  king  alone  could  have  been  the 


206  Fairy  Book. 

author  of  them.  These  lines,  which  were  not  published  in  the 
official  gazette,  have  been  handed  down  to  us  by  one  of  those 
indiscreet  persons  who  suffer  no  follies  of  the  past  to  be  lost 
Such  persons  are  the  rag-pickers  of  history. 

"  Ye  indolent  dunces,  who  rust  in  your  sloth, 

Too  lazy  or  willful  to  learn  ; 
Ye  courtiers,  who  crowd  round  the  king,  nothing  loth 

By  base  flattery  his  favor  to  earn  ; 
Ye  doctors,  who  laugh  at  us  cowards,  and  sell 

Long  words  and  wise  oracles  dear-r 
Beware  lest  some  night  a  mischievous  sprite 

Should  give  you  a  box  on  the  ear. 

"  And  you,  ye  proud  husbands,  puffed  up  with  conceit, 

Who  deem  yourselves  statesmen  so  wise 
That  the  whole  world  admiringly  bows  at  your  feet — 

Who  truth,  love,  and  goodness  despise — 
Beware  lest  some  day  your  less  frivolous  wives, 

Derided  by  those  they  held  dear, 
Should  start  from  your  side,  aroused  by  just  pride, 

And  give  you  a  box  on  the  ear." 

"  What  means  this  enigma,  sire  ?"  asked  Pazza. 
irx^"  It  means  that  I  do  myself  justice,"  answered  the  king. 
.'.  "  I  am  nothing  except  through  you,  dear  Pazza ;  all  that  I 
know  and  all  that  I  think  I  owe  to  you.     Without  you  I  am 
nothing  but  a  soulless  body,  fit  only  for  follies." 

"  Pardon  me  if  I  contradict  your  majesty,"  said  Pazza. 

"  Oh,"  returned  the  king,  "  I  affect  no  false  modesty ;  I  know 
very  well  that  I  have  the  clearest  head  of  any  in  my  council ; 
my  ministers  themselves  are  forced  to  acknowledge  it,  for  they 
are  always  of  my  opinion ;  but  with  all  this  there  is  more  wis- 
dom in  your  little  finger  than  in  all  my  royal  brain.  My  reso- 
lution, therefore,  is  fixed.  Let  my  court  and  people  celebrate 
my  wisdom,  my  goodness,  and  even  my  valor ;  it  is  all  very 
well,  and  I  accept  the  homage.  You  alone  have  the  right  to 
laugh  at  it,  and  you  will  not  betray  me.  But  from  this  day  I 
abandon  my  power  to  you.  The  king,  my  dear  Pazza,  will  be 


King  Bizarre  and  Prince  Charming.     207 

only  the  chief  of  your  subjects,  the  faithful  minister  of  your 
will.  You  shall  write  the  piece  and  I  will  play  it ;  the  applause 
will  be  mine,  according  to  custom,  and  I  will  give  it  back  to 
you  by  force  of  love." 

"  Do  not  talk  in  this  way,  my  dear,"  said  Pazza. 

"  I  know  what  I  am  saying,"  returned  the  king,  warmly.  "  I 
wish  you  to  rule ;  I  mean  that  in  my  empire,  as  in  my  house, 
nothing  shall  be  done  except  by  your  command ;  I  am  the 
master  and  the  king ;  I  desire  and  order  it." 

"  Sire,"  said  Pazza,  "  I  am  your  wife  and  servant  j  it  is  my 
duty  to  obey." 

After  this,  says  the  chronicle,  they  lived  happily  to  a  good 
'old  age,  beloved  by  all  their  subjects  ;  and  the  people  of  the 
kingdom  of  Wild  Oats  still  talk  of  the  good  old  days  of 
Prince  Charming  and  the  Princess  Pazza. 


ABDALLAH; 

OR,  THE   FOUR-LEAVED   CLOVER. 

AN    ARABIAN    TALE. 

I. 

THE  JOY   OF   THE   HOUSE. 

AT  Djiddah  the  rich,  on  the  shores  of  the  Red  Sea,  there 
once  lived  an  Egyptian  merchant  by  the  name  of  Hadji  Man- 
sour.  It  was  said  that  he  had  formerly  been  a  slave  of  the 
great  Ali  Bey,  and  had  served  by  turns,  and  sometimes  even 
at  the  same  time,  the  French  and  the  Turks,  the  Mamelukes 
and  Mehemet  Ali,  in  the  wars  of  Egypt.  During  the  struggle 
each  party  relied  on  him  for  provisions,  arms,  and  camels,  yet 
after  the  battle  he  always  complained  of  having  ruined  him- 
self for  the  victor.  It  is  true  that  at  that  time  no  one  showed 
more  zeal,  and  no  one  obtained  more  cheaply  the  spoils  of  the 
vanquished.  In  this  honest  vocation  the  obliging  Mansour 
had  gained  great  wealth,  though  not  without  some  anxieties. 
He  had  been  denounced  by  the  envious  as  a  spy,  he  had  been 
bastinadoed  by  fanatics  as  a  traitor,  twice  even  he  would  have 
been  hung  had  it  not  been  for  the  charity  of  a  pacha,  who 
had  consented,  for  the  trifling  sum  of  a  million  of  piastres,  to 
acknowledge  such  shining  innocence.  Mansour  had  too  lofty 
a  soul  to  be  dismayed  by  these  political  risks ;  and  if  he  re- 
tired, when  peace  was  made,  to  Djiddah,  it  was  only  because 
lawful  commerce  was  thenceforth  the  only  road  that  led  to 
fortune. 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     209 

In  this  new  kind  of  life  Mansour  was  neither  less  prudent 
nor  less  successful.  It  was  a  common  report  that  his  house 
was  paved  with  gold  and  precious  stones.  Little  love  was 
bestowed  on  the  Egyptian,  who  was  a  stranger  in  Arabia,  and 
who  passed  for  one  of  the  harshest  of  creditors  ;  but  at  Djid- 
dah  men  dared  not  openly  show  contempt  for  a  man  who 
measured  gold  by  the  bushel,  and  as  soon  as  Mansour  ap- 
peared in  the  bazar,  all  ran  to  vie  for  the  honor  of  holding  his 
stirrup  and  kissing  his  hand.  The  merchant  received  all  this 
homage  with  the  modesty  of  a  man  who  knows  the  preroga- 
tives of  wealth  :  thirty  years  of  avarice  and  cunning  had 
brought  all  honest  men  to  his  feet. 

One  thing  alone  was  lacking  to  this  favorite  of  fortune,  and 
disturbed  his  happiness  :  he  had  no  children.  When  he  pass- 
ed before  the  shop  of  a  poor  tradesman  and  saw  the  father 
surrounded  by  young  sons,  the  hope  and  pride  of  the  house, 
he  sighed  with  regret  and  envy,  and  on  his  return  he  shut 
himself  up  in  his  warehouse,  forgot  his  pipe,  and,  instead  of 
telling  his  beads  or  reciting  the  verses  of  the  Koran,  slowly 
stroked  his  white  beard,  reflecting  with  terror  in  his  heart 
that  old  age  was  approaching,  and  that  he  should  leave  none 
of  his  flesh  and  blood  behind  him  to  carry  on  the  business 
after  he  was  gone.  His  only  heir  was  the  pacha,  who  might 
grow  tired  of  waiting,  in  which  case  what  would  hinder  him 
from  dispatching  a  solitary  foreigner,  and  laying  violent  hands 
on  these  dearly-bought  treasures  ? 

These  thoughts  and  fears  poisoned  the  life  of  the  Egyptian. 
What  was  his  joy,  therefore,  when  one  of  his  wives,  an  Abys- 
sinian woman,  announced  to  him  that  he  would  soon  be  a 
father !  At  this  news  the  good  man  wellnigh  lost  his  reason. 
Twice  as  avaricious  and  covetous  since  he  had  begun  to 
amass  treasures  for  his  child,  he  shut  himself  up  to  weigh  and 
count  his  gold,  unfolded  his  rich  stuffs,  and  dug  up  his  dia- 


2io  Fairy  Book. 

monds,  pearls,  and  rubies ;  then  talked  to  these  lifeless  things 
as  if  they  could  understand  him,  and  told  them  of  the  new 
master  who  would  watch  over  and  love  them  in  turn.  When 
he  went  into  the  city  he  insisted  on  talking  to  all  he  met  of  his 
son,  for  it  was  a  son  that  God  owed  his  faithful  servant,  and 
was  greatly  astonished  to  see  every  one  attending  to  his  busi- 
ness as  usual,  when  all  the  inhabitants  of  Djiddah  should 
have  had  but  one  thought,  namely,  that  God,  in  his  justice, 
was  about  to  bless  the  house  of  the  shrewd  and  fortunate 
Mansour. 

The  Egyptian  was  not  disappointed  in  his  expectations; 
and,  that  nothing  might  be  wanting  to  his  happiness,  a  son 
was  born  to  him  at  the  most  favorable  hour  of  the  most  auspi- 
cious month  of  the  year.  When,  on  the  eighth  day,  he  was 
permitted  to  see  this  long-wished-for  child,  he  tremblingly  ap- 
proached the  palm-tree  cradle,  lined  with  cotton,  where  the 
heir  of  the  Mansours  was  sleeping  on  a  silken  handkerchief 
embroidered  with  gold,  and,  gently  raising  the  veil  that  cover- 
ed it,  perceived  a  robust  infant,  almost  as  black  as  his  mother, 
already  gathering  the  cotton  about  him  with  his  tiny  hands. 
At  this  sight  Mansour  stood  dumb  with  admiration ;  large 
tears  trickled  down  his  cheeks ;  then,  controlling  his  feelings 
with  an  effort,  he  took  the  babe  in  his  arms,  and,  approaching 
his  lips  to  its  ear,  "  God  is  great,"  he  murmured  ;  "  there  is  no 
God  but  God,  and  Mohammed  is  his  prophet."  More  tran- 
quil after  this  prayer,  he  gazed  lovingly  at  his  son.  "  Oh,  gift 
of  God,"  cried  he,  "thou  art  but  a  week  old,  but,  to  see  thy 
strength  and  grace,  one  would  take  thee  for  a  year  at  least. 
Thy  face  shines  like  the  full  moon  !  Say,"  said  he,  turning  to 
the  mother,  "  what  have  you  named  him  ?" 

"  If  God  had  afflicted  me  with  a  daughter,"  answered  the 
Ethiopian,  "  I  should  have  chosen  a  name  for  her ;  but  since 
I  have  had  the  glory  of  bringing  a  man-child  into  the  world, 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     2 1 1 

to  you  belongs  that  honor.  Beware,  however,  of  too  ambitious 
a  name,  which  might  arouse  the  jealousy  of  the  evil  eye." 

Mansour  was  reflecting,  when  suddenly  he  heard  a  noise  in 
the  street.  A  Persian  dervish  was  driving  before  him  an  ass 
laden  with  provisions,  while  a  crowd  of  children  was  follow- 
ing the  heretic,  and  showering  him  with  abuse  and  blows. 
The  dervish  pressed  forward  like  a  man  who  neither  feared 
nor  sought  martyrdom,  stopping  now  and  then  to  rail  at  his 
enemies.  "  Accursed  be  thou,  oh  Omar  !"*  cried  he,  striking 
the  ass, "  and  accursed  be  all  who  resemble  thee !"  "  Behold 
a  new  proof  of  my  happiness !"  cried  Mansour.  "  My  child 
shall  be  called  Omar ;  such  a  name  will  ward  off  the  evil  eye, 
and  preserve  him  from  all  witchcraft." 

As  he  was  replacing  the  babe  in  the  cradle,  a  Bedouin 
woman  entered  the  room  with  an  infant  in  her  arms.  She 
was  tall  and  well  formed ;  her  face  was  unveiled,  as  is  the 
custom  in  the  desert ;  and  her  mien  was  so  graceful  and  dig- 
nified that,  poorly  clad  as  she  was,  she  might  have  been  taken 
for  a  sultana. 

"  Welcome,  Halima,"  said  Mansour.  "  I  have  not  forgotten 
that  Yusuf,  your  husband,  fell  in  my  service  while  defending 
my  last  caravan.  The  moment  has  come  to  prove  that  I  am 
not  ungrateful.  You  know  what  I  expect  of  you.  If  I  can 
not  make  my  son  a  sherif  or  give  him  the  green  turban,  I  can 
at  least  cause  him  to  be  brought  up  like  the  son  of  a  sherif, 
under  a  tent,  among  the  noble  Beni  Amurs.  Admitted  into 
your  family,  and  nurtured  with  your  son,  my  beloved  Omar 
will  learn  a  purer  speech  than  mine,  and  will  find  friends 
among  your  kindred  who  will  protect  him  in  after  years.  On 
my  side,  I  shall  fittingly  recognize  and  reward  your  devotion. 
Let  the  friendship  of  our  children  begin  from  this  day ;  from 
this  day  let  them  sleep  in  the  same  cradle.  To-morrow  you 

*  Homar,  or  Omar,  in  Arabic,  signifies  an  ass. 


212  Fairy  Book. 

shall  carry  them  away,  that  they  may  grow  up  together  in  your 
tribe.  Omar  shall  be  your  son  as  Abdallah  shall  be  mine ; 
may  Fortune  smile  on  both !" 

"  May  God  be  their  refuge  against  Satan,  the  accursed !" 
answered  Halima,  bowing  her  head.  "We  are  in  God's 
hands  \  to  Him  we  must  return." 

Mansour  looked  at  her,  smiling.  He  was  a  freethinker, 
and  had  little  faith  in  God,  although  his  name  was  constantly 
on  his  lips.  He  had  lived  too  long,  and  mixed  too  much  with 
men,  to  believe  that  God  meddles  much  with  the  affairs  of 
this  world ;  on  the  other  hand,  he  had  a  strong  belief  in  the 
devil,  of  whom  he  stood  in  great  lear.  The  only  action  in  his 
whole  life  for  which  he  reproached  himself  was  that  of  having 
thrown  seven  stones  at  the  great  devil  of  Jamrat  at  the  time 
of  his  pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  and  he  still  feared  the  rancor  of 
Satan  whom  he  had  stoned.  Doubtless  he  was  proud  of 
having  cheaply  earned  the  noble  title  of  hadji,*  which  ren- 
dered him  worthy  of  respect  in  the  eyes  of  his  customers ;  it 
was  with  the  purest  devotion  that  he  spoke  of  the  Caaba,  f 
that  gem  of  Paradise  placed  by  Father  Abraham  in  the  holy 
city  of  Mecca,  but  at  heart  he  was  not  easy  respecting  the 
consequences  of  his  imprudence,  and  would  even  have  sur- 
rendered the  name  of  hadji  to  have  been  sure  of  the  devil's 
forgiveness  for  his  rashness. 


II. 

THE   HOROSCOPE. 

THE  same  evening,  just  as  the  moon  was  rising,  the  wise 
Mansour  entered  the  room  where  the  two  children  were  sleep- 
ing peacefully  in  each  other's  arms,  followed  by  a  ragged  der 

*  Hadji,  or  saint,  is  the  name  given  to  those  who  have  made  the  pilgrimage  to  Mecca. 
t  The  holy  house,  or  principal  temple  of  Mecca. 


Abdallak  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     213 

vish,  with  a  dirty,  uncombed  beard,  bearing  a  strong  resem- 
blance to  the  reviled  heretic  of  the  morning.  He  was  one  of 
those  shameless  beggars  who  seek  the  fortunes  of  others  in 
the  stars  without  ever  rinding  their  own  therein,  and  who,  al- 
ways pursued  and  hooted  at,  and  always  employed,  will  last 
as  long  as  the  malice  of  Satan,  or  the  avarice  and  credulity  of 
men.  Halima  was  unwilling  to  leave  the  children  with  this 
suspicious  personage,  but  Mansour  commanded  it,  and  she 
was  forced  to  obey.  Scarcely  had  she  quitted  the  room  when 
the  Egyptian  led  the  dervish  to  the  cradle,  and  ordered  him 
to  draw  his  son's  horoscope. 

After  attentively  gazing  at  the  child,  the  astrologer  mount- 
ed the  house-top  and  observed  the  stars ;  then,  taking  a  coal, 
he  traced  a  large  circle,  divided  into  several  compartments, 
in  which  he  placed  the  planets,  and  at  length  declared  that 
the  heavens  were  not  inauspicious.  If  Mars  and  Venus  were 
indifferent,  Mercury,  on  the  contrary,  appeared  under  a  better 
aspect.  This  was  all  that  he  could  tell  for  the  two  sequins 
that  Mansour  had  given  him. 

The  merchant  led  the  diviner  back  to  the  chamber,  and, 
showing  him  two  large  doubloons,  "  Is  there  no  means,"  said 
he,  "  of  knowing  more  ?  Have  the  stars  already  revealed  all 
their  secrets  ?" 

"  Art  is  infinite,"  answered  the  dervish,  pouncing  on  the 
gold ;  "  I  can  also  tell  you  under  the  influence  of  what  sign 
the  child  is  destined  to  live." 

Drawing  from  his  girdle  a  cabalistic  tablet  and  a  bronze 
pen,  the  astrologer  wrote  the  names  of  the  child  and  the 
mother,  placing  the  letters  in  a  line  ;  he  then  calculated  the 
numerical  value  of  the  letters,  and,  looking  at  Mansour  with 
sparkling  eyes,  "  Happy  father,"  he  said,  "  your  son  is  born 
under  the  sign  of  the  Balance ;  if  he  lives,  he  may  expect  ev- 
ery thing  from  fortune." 


214  Fairy  Book. 

"  What,  if  he  lives  !"  cried  Mansour.  "  What  is  it  that  you 
read  on  that  accursed  tablet  ?  Does  any  danger  threaten  my 
son?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  dervish, "  a  danger  which  I  can  not  de- 
fine. His  best  friend  will  be  his  worst  enemy." 

"  Ha !  what  was  I  about  to  do  ?"  said  the  Egyptian.  "  Per- 
chance this  Bedouin  child,  whom  I  have  placed  in  my  son's 
cradle,  will  one  day  be  his  murderer  ?  If  I  thought  so,  I  would 
strangle  him  on  the  spot." 

"  Beware  of  it,"  returned  the  diviner.  "  If  your  son's  life 
is  bound  up  with  that  of  this  child,  you  would  only  kill  them 
both  at  one  blow.  There  is  no  proof  that  this  Bedouin,  des- 
tined to  dwell  among  the  tents,  will  one  day  be  the  best  friend 
of  the  richest  merchant  of  Djiddah.  Besides,  what  refuge  is 
there  against  destiny  ?  Can  you  change  what  is  traced  by  the 
pen  of  the  angels  ?  What  is  written  is  written." 

"  Doubtless,"  said  the  merchant ;  "  but  God — His  name  be 
exalted! — has  said,  in  the  Book  of  Books,  'Cast  not  your- 
selves down  with  your  own  hands  into  perdition.' " 

"  The  day  of  death,"  returned  the  dervish,  gravely,  "  is  one 
of  the  five  mysteries,  the  key  of  which  God  holds  in  his  own 
hands.  Do  you  remember  the  story  of  the  man  who  was  with 
Solomon  one  day  when  Azrael  passed  by  the  king  in  a  visible 
shape  ?  Frightened  by  the  look  cast  on  him  by  the  terrible 
stranger,  he  asked  who  he  was ;  and  upon  Solomon's  ac- 
quainting him  that  it  was  the  angel  of  death, '  He  seems  to 
want  me,'  said  he ;  '  wherefore  order  the  wind  to  carry  me 
hence  to  India.'  Which  being  accordingly  done,  the  angel 
said  to  Solomon,  1 1  looked  so  earnestly  at  this  man  out  of 
wonder,  because  I  was  commanded  to  take  his  soul  in  India, 
and  found  him  with  thee  in  Palestine.' 

"  No  man  can  flee  from  death.     Do  as  he  will, 
Falls  soon  or  late  the  arm  e'er  raised  to  strike ; 
The  sage  is  he  who  looks  it  in  the  face, 
Nor  fears  nor  braves  the  doom  decreed  by  Fate." 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     215 

With  these  words  the  astrologer  bowed  to  take  leave  of 
Mansour,  who  clutched  his  robe. 

"  Have  you  any  thing  more  to  ask  me  ?"  said  the  dervish, 
looking  attentively  at  the  Egyptian. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  merchant ;  "  but  I  dare  not  give  utter- 
ance to  my  thoughts.  Yet  you  seem  to  me  a  friend,  and  you 
will  pardon  a  father's  weakness  where  his  son's  interest  is 
concerned.  A  wise  man  like  you,  who  reads  the  stars,  must 
have  carried  your  curiosity  to  great  lengths.  It  is  said  that 
there  are  men  who,  by  dint  of  science,  have  discovered  the 
great  name  of  God — that  name  which  has  been  revealed  only 
to  the  apostles  and  the  Prophet  (his  name  be  blessed  !) — that 
name  which  suffices  to  raise  the  dead  and  kill  the  living — 
that  name  which  causes  the  world  to  tremble,  and  compels 
the  infernal  powers  and  Eblis*  himself  to  obey  it  like  a  slave. 
Do  you  perchance  know  one  of  these  learned  men,  and  do 
you  think  that  he  would  refuse  to  oblige  a  man  who  had  not 
the  reputation  of  being  ungrateful  ?" 

"  You  are  prudence  itself,"  returned  the  astrologer,  in  a  low 
voice,  approaching  Mansour ;  "  you  may  be  trusted ;  yet  words 
are  naught  but  wind,  and  the  fairest  promises  like  dreams 
that  take  flight  with  the  morning." 

For  his  sole  reply  Mansour  thrust  his  right  arm  into  the 
dervish's  long  sleeve,  and  placed  one  finger  in  his  hand. 

"  A  purse  !"t  exclaimed  the  astrologer,  in  a  disdainful  tone  j 
"  it  is  the  price  of  a  camel.  What  madman  would  evoke  Sa- 
tan at  the  risk  of  his  own  life  for  such  a  trifle  ?" 

The  Egyptian  stretched  out  a  second  finger,  looking  at  the 
dervish,  whose  face  wore  an  air  of  indifference  ;  then,  after  a 
moment's  silence,  he  heaved  a  deep  sigh  and  placed  a  third 
finger  in  the  dervish's  hand. 

*  One  of  the  names  of  Satan  among  the  Arabs, 
t  A  purse  is  about  twenty-five  dollars. 


216  Fairy  Book. 

"  Three  purses  !"  said  the  astrologer ;  "  it  is  the  cost  of  an 
infidel  slave.  The  soul  of  a  Mussulman  can  not  be  bought 
at  such  a  price.  Let  us  part,  Mansour,  and  forget  the  im- 
prudent words  you  have  spoken." 

"  Do  not  abandon  me !"  cried  the  merchant,  grasping  the 
dervish's  arm  with  his  whole  hand.  "  Five  purses  are  a  large 
sum,  and  all  that  I  can  give.  If  necessary,  I  add  to  it  the 
offer  of  my  soul ;  our  common  peril  will  answer  to  you  for  my 
discretion." 

"  Give  me  the  five  purses,  then,"  returned  the  magician, 
"  and  my  friendship  shall  do  the  rest.  I  own  my  weakness ; 
I  have  been  unable  to  see  you  without  being  drawn  to  you : 
may  this  yielding  not  cost  me  too  dear !" 

Mansour  brought  the  money.  The  dervish  weighed  it  sev- 
eral times,  and  placed  it  in  his  girdle  with  the  tranquillity  of  a 
resolute  heart ;  then,  taking  the  lamp,  he  walked  three  times 
round  the  cradle,  murmuring  strange  words,  waving  the  light 
before  the  child's  face,  and  prostrating  himself  again  and 
again  at  the  four  corners  of  the  room,  followed  by  Mansour, 
who  trembled  with  fear  and  anxiety. 

After  all  these  ceremonies,  which  appeared  endless  to  the 
merchant,  the  magician  placed  the  lamp  on  a  bench  along  the 
wall,  and,  taking  a  little  box  from  his  inexhaustible  girdle, 
poured  a  black  powder  upon  the  burning  wick.  A  thick 
smoke  instantly  filled  the  whole  room,  amid  which  Mansour 
fancied  that  he  saw  the  infernal  figure  and  flaming  eyes  of  an 
Afrite.*  The  dervish  seized  him  by  the  arm,  and  both  threw 
themselves  on  the  carpet,  their  faces  buried  in  their  hands. 

"  Speak,"  said  the  dervish,  in  a  breathless  voice,  "  speak, 
but  do  not  lift  your  head  as  you  value  your  life.  Make  three 
wishes  :  Eblis  is  here,  and  will  grant  your  prayer." 

"  I  wish  that  my  son  may  be  rich  all  his  life,"  murmured 
Mansour. 

*  One  of  the  infernal  genii. 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     2 1 7 


"  So  be  it !"  returned  a  strange  voice,  which  seemed  to  come 
from  the  other  end  of  the  room,  though  Mansour  had  seen 
the  apparition  before  him. 

"  I  wish  that  my  son  may  always  have  good  health,"  contin- 
ued the  Egyptian, "  for,  without  health,  of  what  use  is  fortune  ?" 

"  So  be  it !"  returned  the  voice. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Mansour  hesitated  as  to 
his  third  wish.  "  Shall  I  wish  for  wit  ?"  thought  he.  "  No,  he 
is  my  son,  and  he  will  inherit  his  father's  cunning."  The  der- 
vish's prediction  suddenly  recurred  to  his  memory.  "  Threat- 
ened by  his  best  friend,"  thought  he,  "  there  is  but  one  means 
of  safety  for  him,  namely,  to  love  no  one,  and  to  think  of  him- 
self alone.  Besides,  anxiety  for  others  spoils  our  own  life, 
and  those  we  oblige  are  always  ungrateful.  I  wish  that  my 
son  may  love  no  one  but  himself,"  said  he,  at  length. 

K 


218  Fairy  Book. 

"  So  be  it !"  returned  the  voice,  with  a  terrible  cry,  which 
frightened  the  Egyptian  so  much  that  he  remained  motionless 
till  the  dervish  pulled  the  skirt  of  his  robe  and  commanded 
him  to  rise.  At  the  same  moment  a  jet  of  flame  shot  from 
the  lamp,  and  the  whole  room  seemed  in  a  blaze.  Mansour, 
terrified  at  his  own  rashness,  rushed  to  the  door  to  assure 
himself  that  he  was  still  alive  and  that  nothing  had  changed 
in  the  house. 

While  the  dervish  was  putting  on  his  cloak  and  sandals 
like  a  man  whom  habit  hardens  against  fear,  a  woman  rushed 
to  the  cradle  of  the  infants.  It  was  Halima,who  had  remain- 
ed near  the  room  during  the  enchantment,  and  whose  terror 
had  been  heightened  by  Mansour's  sudden  departure.  Her 
first  care  was  to  wet  her  finger  with  her  lips  and  pass  it  over 
the  forehead  of  the  children,  repeating  a  formula  to  ward  off 
the  evil  eye.  The  serenity  of  the. dervish  reassured  her;  she 
blamed  herself  for  having  suspected  this  pious  personage  of 
magic,  who  wore  on  his  face  the  blissful  tranquillity  of  sanctity, 
and,  respectfully  approaching  him,  she  kissed  the  hem  of  his 
robe.  "Holy  man,"  said  she,  "my  son  is  an  orphan,  and  I  am 
a  poor  woman  ;  I  can  offer  you  nothing  but  gratitude,  but — " 

"  Well,  well,"  exclaimed  the  astrologer,  "  I  know  in  advance 
what  you  would  ask  of  me — that  your  son  should  be  rich,  is  it 
not  ?  For  this,  what  need  have  you  of  my  aid  ?  Make  him  a 
merchant,  and  let  him  steal  like  old  Mansour ;  make  him  a 
bashaw,  and  let  him  pillage  his  brethren ;  make  him  a  der- 
vish, and  let  him  flatter  and  lie :  all  the  vices  lead  to  fortune 
when  they  are  joined  with  the  vilest  of  all — avarice.  This  is 
the  secret  of  life.  Adieu." 

"This  is  not  what  I  wish,"  said  the  astonished  Halima; 
"  you  do  wrong  to  deride  me  in  this  way.  My  son  will  be  an 
honest  man,  like  his  father.;  and  what  I  wish  is  that  he  may 
be  happy  here  on  earth." 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     219 

"  Virtuous  and  happy !"  cried  the  dervish,  with  a  sardonic 
laugh  ;  "  and  you  address  yourself  to  me  !  My  good  woman, 
what  you  want  is  the  four-leaved  clover,  which  none  has  seen 
since  Adam.  Let  your  son  seek  it ;  if  he  finds  it,  be  sure 
that  he  will  lack  for  nothing." 

"  What  is  the  four-leaved  clover  ?"  cried  the  anxious  mother ; 
but  the  magician  had  disappeared,  never  more  to  return.  Man 
or  demon,  none  has  since  beheld  him.  Halima,  full  of  emo- 
tion, bent  over  the  cradle  and  gazed  at  her  son,  who  seemed 
to  smile  on  her  in  his  sleep.  "  Rest  in  peace,"  said  she, "  and 
rely  on  my  love.  I  know  not  what  this  talisman  is  of  which 
the  dervish  speaks,  but,  child  of  my  soul !  we  will  seek  it  to- 
gether, and  something  tells  me  that  you  will  find  it.  Satan  is 
cunning  and  man  is  weak,  but  God  rules  the  heart  of  his  faith- 
ful and  does  what  he  will." 


III. 

THE   EDUCATION. 

IN  choosing  the  Bedouin  woman  to  whom  to  intrust  Omar, 
Mansour  had  given  a  new  proof  of  his  usual  prudence.  From 
the  first  day  Halima  showed  her  nursling  all  a  mother's  affec- 
tion, and  tended  him  more  carefully  than  her  own  offspring. 
When  she  was  forced  to  leave  her  tent,  the  cherished  child  that 
she  carried  on  her  shoulder  was  always  Et  Tagir,  or  the  little 
merchant,  as  Omar  was  called  among  the  Beni  Amurs.  Yet 
what  a  difference  was  there  between  the  two  brothers !  Tall, 
slender,  supple,  and  agile,  with  his  clear  eyes  and  brilliant 
complexion,  Abdallah  would  have  filled  any  father's  heart  with 
pride  ;  while  the  son  of  Mansour,  with  his  swarthy  skin,  thick 
neck,  and  round  paunch,  was  only  an  Egyptian  astray  in  the 
desert.  What  mattered  it  to  the  Bedouin  woman  ?  Had  she 
not  nourished  them  both  with  the  same  milk?  Who  knows 


220  Fairy  Book. 

even  whether,  like  a  true  mother,  she  had  not  a  secret  weak* 
ness  for  the  child  which  had  the  most  need  of  her  love  ? 

As  he  grew,  Abdallah  soon  showed  all  the  nobleness  of  his 
race.  On  seeing  him  with  the  Egyptian,  one  would  have  said 
that  he  already  felt  himself  the  master  of  the  tent,  and  was 
proud  of  exercising  the  rites  of  hospitality.  Although  but  six 
months  older  than  Omar,  he  made  himself  his  brother's  guard- 
ian and  protector,  and  his  greatest  pleasure  was  to  amuse, 
serve,  and  defend  him.  In  all  the  games  and  feasts,  he  in- 
sisted on  giving  the  little  merchant  the  best  place  ;  and  when- 
ever a  quarrel  arose,  it  was  always  he,  and  he  alone,  that 
fought,  adroit,  strong,  and  hardy,  like  a  son  of  the  desert. 

Omar  willingly  remained  in  the  background,  as  if  he  al- 
ready understood  the  advantage  to  be  derived  from  an  uncal- 
culating  friendship.  As  indolent  as  a  dweller  in  cities,  he 
seldom  quitted  the  tent.  The  Bedouin  ran  between  the  legs 
of  the  mares,  wrestled  with  the  colts,  and  climbed  the  camels 
without  making  them  kneel ;  the  Egyptian,  his  legs  crossed 
on  a  mat,  passed  the  greater  part  of  the  day  in  sleeping,  and 
felt  naught  but  disdain  for  the  noisy  exploits  which  made  the 
joy  of  Abdallah.  When  he  mixed  with  other  children,  it  was 
only  to  play  merchant  with  them.  The  son  of  Mansour  had 
singular  skill  in  bartering  a  date  for  a  citron,  a  citron  for  an 
orange,  and  an  orange  for  a  piece  of  coral  or  some  other  toy. 
At  ten  years  of  age,  Omar  had  already  found  that  the  best  use 
of  a  rosary  was  to  aid  in  counting.  He  was  not,  however,  un- 
grateful ;  he  loved  his  brother  after  his  fashion.  He  shower- 
ed innumerable  caresses  on  Abdallah,  who  seldom  returned 
home  without  bringing  bananas,  pomegranates,  apricots,  or 
some  other  fruit  that  had  been  given  him  by  the  women  of 
the  neighborhood,  who  were  charmed  with  his  grace  and 
sprightliness.  By  dint  of  tenderness,  Omar  always  secured 
what  he  wished ;  but  he  was  not  better  pleased  with  the  sue- 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.    221 

cess  of  his  cunning  than  was  his  brother  in  letting  himself  be 
despoiled  by  the  one  he  loved.  Each  of  us  is  born  with  his 
destiny  clinging  about  his  neck  like  a  heavy  collar,  and  hur- 
rying him  onward ;  a  fox  nurtured  by  a  lioness  will  always  be 
a  fox,  and  a  merchant's  son  will  never  make  a  Bedouin. 

At  the  age  of  ten,  thanks  to  Halima,  Abdallah's  education 
was  finished ;  he  knew  all  that  a  Beni  Amur  needed  to  know. 
The  son  of  Yusuf  could  recite  the  genealogy  of  his  family  and 
tribe  ;  he  knew  the  pedigree,  name,  surname,  coat,  and  brand 
of  all  the  horses ;  he  could  read  in  the  stars  the  hour  of  the 
night,  and  the  shadows  told  him  the  time  of  the  day.  No 
one  knew  better  how  to  make  the  camels  kneel ;  no  one 
chanted  to  them  in  a  more  melodious  voice  those  sweet  songs 
which  shorten  their  way  and  make  them  quicken  their  pace, 
despite  fatigue  and  heat.  Already  even  he  handled  the  gun 
and  brandished  the  lance  and  sabre  as  if  he  had  been  in  half 
a  score  of  caravans.  Halima  contemplated  his  youthful  cour- 
age with  tears  of  joy,  happy  to  see  that  the  child  whom  she 
had  brought  into  the  world  would  some  day  be  the  honor  of 
his  people  and  the  delight  of  his  tribe. 

Halima  was  a  true  Mussulman;  she  knew  that  wisdom, 
strength,  and  consolation  are  in  God  alone.  The  children 
were  scarcely  seven  years  old  when  she  had  already  taught 
chem  to  recite  the  five  prayers  and  make  the  ablutions.  In 
the  morning,  as  soon  as  a  faint  light  illumined  the  east;  at 
noon,  when  the  sun  turned ;  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  shad- 
ows began  to  lengthen ;  at  even,  when  the  sun  set  in  the  hori- 
zon ;  and,  lastly,  at  night,  when  darkness  covered  the  earth, 
Omar  and  Abdallah  stretched  the  carpet  of  prayer  upon  the 
ground,  and,  turning  toward  Mecca,  repeated  the  holy  words 
which  comprise  all  religion, "  There  is  no  god  but  God,  and 
Mohammed  is  his  prophet."  The  prayer  ended,  Halima  loved 
to  repeat  to  the  children  the  precepts  of  Ayesha — precepts 


222  Fairy  Book. 

which  she  made  the  rule  of  her  life.  "  Sons  of  my  soul  P  she 
would  say  to  them, "  listen  to  what  Ayesha,  the  beloved  spouse 
of  the  Prophet,  the  peerless  virgin,  and  the  mother  of  the 
faithful,  replied  to  a  Mussulman  who  asked  her  counsel. 
Remember  these  holy  maxims ;  they  are  the  legacy  of  the 
Prophet  himself,  and  the  pearl  of  truth. 

"  Acknowledge  that  there  is  but  one  God  alone ;  remain 
steadfast  in  the  faith;  instruct  yourself;  bridle  your  tongue; 
repress  your  wrath  3  forbear  to  do  evil ;  associate  with  the 
good ;  screen  the  faults  of  your  neighbor ;  relieve  the  poor  by 
your  alms ;  and  expect  your  reward  in  eternity." 

The  two  children  were  thus  brought  up,  surrounded  with 
the  same  love,  and  a  love  so  tender  and  equal  that  the  two 
brothers  never  suspected  that  they  were  not  of  the  same 
blood.  One  day,  however,  an  old  man  entered  the  tent,  arm- 
ed with  a  tablet  of  wood,  painted  white,  on  which  elegant  char- 
acters were  traced  in  black.  The  sheik  enjoyed  great  renown 
in  the  tribe  ;  it  was  said  that  he  had  formerly  studied  at  Cairo 
in  El  Azar,  that  splendid  mosque,  the  fountain  of  light,  which 
is  the  joy  of  the  faithful  and  the  despair  of  infidels.  He  was 
so  learned  that  he  could  read  the  Koran,  and  copy  with  a 
reed  the  ninety-nine  names  of  God,  and  the  Fat-hah.*  To 
the  great  astonishment  of  the  Bedouin,  the  old  man,  after 
talking  in  a  low  tone  to  Halima,  who  put  a  purse  in  his  hand, 
turned  his  sole  attention  to  the  son  of  Mansour,  caressed  him 
with  paternal  tenderness,  seated  him  by  his  side,  put  the  tab- 
let in  his  hands,  and,  after  teaching  him  how  to  sway  the  head 
and  body  to  aid  the  memory,  made  him  chant  the  whole  al- 
phabet after  him.  Omar  took  so  lively  an  interest  in  his  les- 
son that  on  the  very  first  day  he  learned  the  numerical  value 
of  all  the  letters.  The  sheik  embraced  him  anew,  promising 
him  that,  if  he  went  on  in  this  way,  he  would  soon  be  more 

*  The  first  chapter  of  the  Koran,  and  the  usual  prayer  of  the  Mussulmen. 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.    223 

learned  than  his  master,  and  quitted  the  tent  without  even 
looking  at  Abdallah. 

The  poor  boy's  heart  swelled  at  the  sight  of  this  lesson  of 
his  brother's,  by  which  he  would  have  gladly  profited.  He 
was  spared  a  second  trial.  The  next  morning  he  was  sent  to 
the  fields  to  tend  his  mother's  sheep.  He  was  not  alone ;  he 
had  been  placed  in  the  care  of  a  maternal  uncle,  a  one-eyed 
and  crippled  old  shepherd,  but  a  man  of  good  counsel.  Hafiz, 
for  this  was  the  name  of  Halima's  brother,  was  a  brave  soldier 
and  a  pious  Mussulman,  who  had  seen  much  and  suffered 
much.  The  companion  of  Yusuf,  Abdallah's  father,  and  wound- 
ed by  his  side,  he  was  the  last  prop  of  an  almost  extinct  family, 
and,  alone  and  childless  as  he  was,  he  loved  his  nephew  as  his 
own  son. 

It  was  he  that  had  opposed  the  plan  of  making  Abdallah  a 
scholar.  "Would  you  know  more  than  the  Prophet,  whom 
may  God  protect  and  bless !"  said  he  to  the  young  Bedouin. 
"  What  would  you  read — the  Koran  ?  But  is  it  on  vile  rags 
or  your  own  heart  that  its  sacred  words  should  be  en- 
graved? Strange  books  —  what  is  the  use?  Is  not  every 
thing  contained  in  the  Koran  ?  Is  it  not  for  rash  spirits  who 
seek  the  truth  elsewhere  that  it  is  written, '  The  likeness  of 
those  who  take  other  patrons  besides  God  is  as  the  likeness 
of  the  spider,  which  maketh  herself  a  house  ?  but  the  weak- 
est of  all  houses,  surely,  is  the  house  of  the  spider,  if  they  knew 
this.'  Those  whose  minds  are  swallowed  up  in  books  are  like 
asses  laden  with  foreign  wealth,  which  serves  only  to  weigh 
them  down.  Man  was  not  born  to  amass  the  thoughts  of 
others,  but  to  act  for  himself.  Go  forward,  my  son,  with  an 
upright  heart  and  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord.  At  the  age  of 
strength  God  will  give  thee  wisdom  and  knowledge  as  to  the 
son  of  Jacob.  It  is  thus  that  he  rewards  the  just,  for  he  him- 
self has  said  it." 


224  Fairy  Book. 

These  words  kindled  Abdallah's  heart.  Every  day,  when 
the  noontide  heat  confined  them  within  the  tent,  Hafiz  recited 
to  the  son  of  Yusuf  a  few  verses  of  the  holy  book,  and  made 
him  repeat  them  after  him  in  turn.  In  this  way,  by  degrees, 
he  taught  him  the  whole  Koran,  beginning,  after  the  Fdt-hdh, 
with  the  short  chapters  On  Men,  The  Day  break ,  and  The  Unity 
of  God,  and  ending  with  the  long  and  beautiful  teachings  con- 
tained in  the  chapters  On  Women,  The  Family  of  Imran,  and 
The  Cow.  The  child  was  like  the  sands  of  the  desert,  which 
drink  up  the  rain-drops  without  losing  a  single  one ;  he  never 
wearied  of  chanting  this  rhythmic  prose,  as  superior  to  poetry  as 
the  Word  of  God  is  to  that  of  men.  Day  and  night  he  repeat- 
ed these  precepts  in  which  eloquence  and  wisdom  are  strung 
together  like  pearls^n  a  necklace.  Whenever  a  good  Mussul- 
man wished  to  give  a  feast  to  his  comrades  or  to  pay  honors 
to  the  tomb  of  a  friend,  the  lame  shepherd  and  his  disciple 
were  called  upon  to  recite  the  whole  Koran  or  one  of  its  thir- 
ty sections.  Seated  on  the  ground  around  the  master  and 
pupil,  the  Beni  Amurs  greedily  drank  in  the  divine  words. 
"  God  is  great !"  they  exclaimed.  "  Gabriel  himself  was  not 
more  beautiful  than  this  young  man  when  he  deposited  the 
eternal  revelation  in  the  heart  of  the  Prophet." 

Hafiz  not  only  taught  his  nephew  the  text  of  the  Koran, 
but  also  repeated  to  him  the  words  of  the  Prophet  which  have 
been  handed  down  to  us  by  his  friends.  He  taught  him  the 
four  great  duties  enjoined  by  God  on  all  who  would  be  saved 
— the  five  daily  prayers,  the  giving  of  one  fortieth  in  alms,  the 
fast  of  Ramadan,  and  the  pilgrimage  to  Mecca ;  and  held  up 
to  his  detestation  the  seven  great  sins — those  sins  which  beget 
seven  hundred  others,  and  which  destroy  the  soul — idolatry, 
that  crime  which  God,  according  to  his  explicit  declaration, 
never  pardons  ;  murder ;  the  charge  of  adultery  falsely  brought 
against  an  honest  woman ;  wrong  done  to  orphans ;  usury ; 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     225 

flight  in  an  expedition  against  the  infidels,  and  disobedience 
to  parents.  "  Oh,  my  son,"  he  exclaimed,  at  the  close  of  each 
lesson,  "  thou  who,  by  the  decree  of  God,  hast  been  placed 
among  the  number  of  those  who  have  received  the  Scriptures, 
daily  repeat  that  divine  promise  which  is  our  whole  strength 
and  comfort  here  below:  'Whoever  obeyeth  God  and  the 
apostle,  they  shall  be  with  those  unto  whom  God  has  been 
gracious,  of  the  prophets,  and  the  sincere,  and  the  martyrs, 
and  the  righteous,  and  these  are  most  excellent  company. 
This  is  bounty  from  God,  and  from  God  nothing  is  hidden/  " 

In  order  not  to  weary  Abdallah,  Hafiz  often  interspersed 
his  teachings  with  the  stories  of  some  of  those  innumerable 
prophets  to  whose  keeping  God  confided  the  truth  while  await- 
ing the  coming  of  Mohammed.  Sometimes  it  was  Adam,  our 
first  father,  to  whom  God  in  his  goodness  taught  the  name  of 
every  living  thing  on  earth.  By  the  command  of  the  Lord, 
these  creatures,  born  of  fire,  adored  man,  born  of  the  dust  of 
the  earth.  A  single  one  refused,  the  ungrateful  Eblis,  urged 
by  his  pride  to  destruction.  Unhappily,  Adam  and  Eve  suf- 
fered themselves  to  be  tempted  by  the  enemy,  and  ate  of  the 
forbidden  fruit.  To  punish  their  disobedience,  God  drove 
them  from  Paradise.  Adam  was  flung  upon  the  island  of 
Serendib,  where  his  footprint  may  still  be  seen,  and  Eve  fell  at 
Djiddah,  where  she  was  doomed  to  live  two  centuries  in  soli- 
tude. God,  however,  at  last  took  pity  on  the  unhappy  couple, 
and  Gabriel  again  reunited  them  on  Mount  Arafat,  near  that 
miraculous  spot  where  Abraham  and  Ishmael  were  to  found 
the  holy  Caaba. 

At  another  time  the  cripple  would  tell  how  God  showed 
Abraham  the  kingdom  of  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  that  he 
might  know  true  science.  Reared  in  the  faith  of  his  fathers, 
the  son  of  Azer  worshipped  the  stars.  When  the  night  over- 
shadowed him,  he  saw  a  star  and  cried, "  This  is  my  Lord  !" 

K  2 


226  Fairy  Book. 

but  when  it  set  he  said,  "I  like  not  gods  which  set."  And 
when  he  saw  the  moon  rising  he  cried,  "  This  is  my  Lord  ;" 
but  when  he  saw  it  set  he  said,  "  Verily,  if  my  Lord  direct  me 
not,  I  shall  become  as  one  of  the  people  who  go  astray." 
And  when  he  saw  the  sun  rising  he  said,  "  This  is  my  Lord  , 
this  is  the  greatest ;"  but  when  he  saw  it  set  he  said,  "  Oh,  my 
people,  verily  I  am  clear  of  your  idolatrous  worship."  The 
son  of  Azer  understood  that  the  stars  scattered  through  the 
heavens  revealed  a  higher  hand,  as  the  footprints  on  the  sand 
tell  of  the  traveler  that  has  gone  before. 

Like  a  true  Mussulman,  Abraham  had  no  sooner  found  the 
true  faith  than  he  broke  all  the  idols  of  his  people  except 
Baal,  on  whose  neck  he  hung  the  axe  with  which  he  had  de- 
molished them.  When  the  furious  Chaldeans  asked  who  had 
treated  their  gods  in  such  a  manner,  "  It  is  Baal,"  said  Abra- 
ham ;  "  ask  him,  and  see  what  he  will  answer  you."  "  An 
idol  can  not  speak,"  cried  the  Chaldeans ;  and  they  said, 
"  Thou  art  an  unbeliever !"  But  who  can  enlighten  those  who 
have  eyes,  yet  see  not !  They  are  blinded  by  the  very  light 
of  truth.  Furious  at  having  been  discomfited  by  a  child, 
Nimrod,  the  King  of  the  Chaldeans,  ordered  Abraham  to  be 
thrown  into  a  fiery  furnace.  Vain  cruelty !  the  Lord  Eternal 
holds  the  power  of  life  and  death.  By  the  command  of  God, 
the  fire  consumed  none  but  the  unbelievers.  For  Abraham, 
the  funeral  pile  turned  to  a  verdant  meadow,  and  the  flames 
that  surrounded  him  to  a  cool  and  refreshing  breeze.  It 
is  thus  that  the  Lord  lifts  up  the  just  and  humbles  the 
proud. 

Who  could  exhaust  the  sacred  stories  which  have  been 
handed  down  to  us  by  the  Koran  and  tradition  !  They  are 
more  numerous  and  more  beautiful  than  the  stars  in  a  sum- 
mer sky.  Hafiz  told  them  as  he  had  received  them  from  his 
fathers,  and  Abdallah  repeated  them  with  the  like  ardor  and 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     227 

faith.  Sometimes  it  was  of  David,  the  blacksmith  king,  to 
whom  God  taught  the  art  of  fabricating  coats  of  mail  to  pro- 
tect the  faithful ;  sometimes  it  was  of  Solomon,  under  whose 
dominion  the  Lord  placed  the  winds,  the  birds,  and  the  genii. 
Or  it  was  of  Balkis,  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  when,  seated  on  her 
throne  of  gold  and  silver,  set  with  precious  stones,  she  received 
Solomon's  letter,  brought  her  by  a  bird,  kissed  the  seal,  at 
which  Satan  trembled,  and  became  a  Mussulman  at  the  voice 
of  the  wisest  of  kings.  Or  it  was  of  the  sleeping  compan- 
ions in  the  cavern,  who  awaited  the  reign  of  truth  three  hund- 
red and  nine  years,  with  their  faithful  dog,  El  Rakim,  crouch- 
ed at  their  feet.  Or  it  was  of  the  sacred  camel  brought  forth 
from  the  rock  at  the  prayer  of  Saleh,  to  confound  the  unbe- 
lief of  the  Talmudites.  When  did  God  tire  of  working  mir- 
acles to  succor  the  faithful  ? 

Of  all  these  marvelous  stories,  to  which  the  Bedouins  never 
tired  of  listening,  the  one  which  Halima  oftenest  asked  of  her 
son  was  that  of  Job,  that  faithful  servant  who  turned  to  God 
in  the  midst  of  his  anguish.  In  vain  his  wife,  weary  of  seeing 
him  suffer,  consented  to  worship  Eblis  to  regain  their  lost  hap- 
piness. Job  refused  assistance  from  this  accursed  hand.  If 
he  raised  his  body,  eaten  by  worms,  on  the  dunghill,  it  was 
to  lift  to  the  Lord  that  touching  prayer  which  won  pardon 
from  God  for  the  wretched  sufferer  :  "  Verily  evil  hath  afflict- 
ed me,  but  thou  art  the  most  merciful  of  those  who  show 
mercy" — beautiful  words,  which  one  of  the  faithful  alone  could 
utter. 

Hafiz  was  one  of  the  faithful,  but  he  was  also  a  Bedouin, 
proud  of  his  race — a  soldier  who  loved  the  fray  of  battle. 
"  Think,  my  son,"  he  would  often  say  to  Abdallah,  "  think  of 
the  privileges  which  the  Prophet  has  won  for  us,  and  which 
we  must  defend  to  the  death.  To  render  our  life  easy  God 
has  given  us  gardens,  living  springs  of  water,  innumerable 


228  Fairy  Book. 

cattle,  the  dourah,*  and  the  palm-tree ;  to  render  it  glorious, 
he  has  given  us  a  noble  pedigree,  a  country  that  has  never 
been  conquered,  and  a  liberty  that  no  master  has  ever  pol- 
luted. We  are  the  kings  of  the  desert.  Our  turbans  are  our 
diadems,  our  tents  are  our  palaces,  our  sabres  are  our  ram- 
parts, and  God's  own  word  is  our  law.  Your  father  fell  like 
a  martyr  on  the  field  of  battle.  Among  your  ancestors,  for 
one  who  by  chance  has  breathed  his  last  under  a  tent,  three 
have  fallen  in  the  desert,  their  lance  in  their  hand.  They 
point  you  the  way ;  they  understood  the  divine  saying,  '  Let 
them  therefore  fight  for  the  religion  of  God  who  part  with 
the  present  life  for  that  which  is  to  come  ;  for  whosoever  fight- 
eth  for  the  religion  of  God,  whether  he  be  slain  or  be  victo- 
rious, we  will  surely  give  him  a  great  reward.  The  provision 
of  this  life  is  but  small ;  but  the  future  shall  be  better  for  him 
whofearethGod/" 

Have  you  seen  the  war-horse  pawing  the  earth  and  snuffing 
the  wind  at  the  sound  of  the  trumpet  ?  Such  was  Abdallah 
when  Hafiz  talked  to  him  of  battle ;  his  heart  throbbed,  his 
eyes  grew  dim,  and  his  face  flushed.  "  Oh  God  !"  he  cried, 
"  grant  that  it  may  soon  be  my  time  ;  permit  me  to  crush  the 
infidel,  and  make  me  worthy  of  the  people  from  which  I  have 
sprung !" 

The  child  of  the  desert  was  beautiful  indeed  in  his  long 
blue  robe,  confined  at  the  waist  by  a  leather  thong  passed 
half  a  score  of  times  around  his  body.  His  thick  brown  hair 
shaded  his  face,  and  fell  in  curls  upon  his  neck  from  under 
his  hood.  His  eyes  sparkled  with  a  softer  light  than  the 
planets  that  twinkle  in  the  heavens,  as,  holding  in  his  hand  a 
shining  lance,  wound  round  with  silver  thread,  he  walked  slow- 
ly, with  the  grace  of  a  child  and  the  dignity  of  a  man,  speaking 

*  The  sorgho,  the  principal  cereal  of  the  East  Indians  and  the  Arabs,  which  they  use 
like  maize  and  rice. 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     229 

only  when  necessary  and  never  laughing.  When  he  returned 
from  the  pasture,  carrying  the  young  lambs  in  the  skirt  of  his 
robe,  while  the  sheep  followed  him  bleating  and  rubbing  their 
heads  against  his  hand,  the  shepherds,  his  companions,  stop- 
ped to  see  him  pass,  and  he  seemed  like  Joseph  adored  by 
the  eleven  stars.  And  at  evening,  when  he  raised  the  stone 
from  the  common  well  with  a  strength  above  his  age  and  wa- 
tered the  flocks,  the  women  forgot  to  fill  their  pitchers,  and 
cried,  "  He  is  as  handsome  as  his  father !"  to  which  the  men 
responded, "  And  he  will  also  be  as  brave." 


IV. 

THE   RECOGNITION. 

TIME  had  rolled  onward  since  the  day  that  Halima  had 
carried  the  son  of  the  wealthy  Mansour  to  her  tent.  Omar 
was  fifteen  years  old,  and  was  still  unacquainted  with  the 
secret  of  his  birth.  The  rude  jests  of  his  companions  had 
more  than  once  made  him  feel  that  he  was  not  a  Beni  Amur, 
and  that  the  blood  in  his  veins  was  not  so  pure  as  that  of 
Abdallah ;  but,  although  he  was  called  Omar,  the  little  mer- 
chant, no  one  in  the  tribe  knew  who  was  the  Egyptian's  fa- 
ther, and  he  himself  believed  that  he  was  an  orphan,  adopted 
by  Halima's  goodness,  and  destined  to  live  in  the  desert. 

One  evening,  as  the  brothers  were  returning  from  the  fields, 
they  were  surprised  to  see  several  richly-caparisoned  camels 
at  the  door  of  the  tent,  together  with  a  mule  covered  with  a 
rich  carpet  and  held  by  a  negro  dressed  in  white. 

"Whose  mule  is  this,"  said  Omar, "  and  what  has  it  brought  ?" 

"  It  is  your  father's,"  answered  the  slave,  who  easily  recog- 
nized Mansour's  son  by  his  features ;  "  we  have  come  for  you 
from  Djiddah." 

"Who  is  my  father?"  asked  the  Egyptian,  greatly  moved. 


230  Fairy  Book. 

"  Your  father,"  returned  the  negro,  "  is  the  rich  Mansour, 
the  syndic  of  the  Djiddah  merchants,  and  the  sultan  of  the 
sons  of  Egypt.  There  is  not  a  bale  of  goods,  great  or  small, 
that  comes  into  the  harbor  or  goes  out  of  the  three  city  gates 
that  is  not  first  offered  to  him  for  his  disposal.  At  Yambo, 
Suez,  Khartoom,  and  Cairo,  your  father's  warehouses  are  kept 
by  his  numerous  slaves ;  and  so  great  is  his  fortune  that  his 
servants  never  consult  him  about  any  business  involving  less 
than  a  hundred  thousand  piastres." 

"  Oh,  my  father,  where  are  you  ?"  cried  the  young  man, 
rushing  into  the  tent.  "  Praised  be  God,  who  has  given  me 
a  father  so  worthy  of  my  love  !"  And  he  threw  himself  into 
Mansour's  arms  with  an  ardor  that  delighted  the  old  mer- 
chant and  called  forth  a  sigh  from  Haliina. 

Early  the  next  morning  they  set  out  for  Djiddah,  to  the 
great  sorrow  of  the  Bedouin  woman,  who  could  not  bear  to 
separate  from  the  child  whom  she  alone  had  cherished  for  so 
many  years.  "  Adieu,  my  son,  and  dearer  than  my  son,"  said 
she,  covering  him  with  tears  and  caresses.  Omar  was  more 
courageous ;  he  quitted  his  mother  with  the  joy  of  a  captive 
who  at  once  regains  freedom  and  fortune.  Abdallah  accom- 
panied his  brother  to  the  city  by  the  wish  of  Mansour.  To 
show  the  Bedouin  how  far  the  consideration  attached  to 
wealth  in  a  city  like  Djiddah  raised  a  merchant  above  the 
shepherds  of  the  desert,  and  to  make  him  feel  that  his  mother 
and  he  should  esteem  themselves  too  happy  in  having  loved 
and  served  Omar  for  fifteen  years,  was  Mansour's  fashion  of 
paying  his  debt  of  gratitude.  The  rich  leave  their  folly  and 
vanity  only  beyond  the  tomb. 

No  sooner  had  they  reached  Djiddah  than  Omar  broke 
forth  into  transports  of  joy.  He  was  an  exile  returning  to 
his  native  land.  Every  thing  charmed  him  :  the  narrow 
streets,  with  their  great  stone  houses ;  the  port,  where  the 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.    231 

ships  were  unloading  casks  of  sugar,  sacks  of  coffee,  and  bales 
of  cotton ;  and  the  motley  crowd  that  was  thronging  toward 
the  bazar.  Turks,  Syrians,  Greeks,  Arabs,  Persians,  East  In- 
dians, blacks  of  every  shade ;  Jews,  pilgrims,  dervishes,  beg-, 
gars ;  Nile  merchants  mounted  on  beautifully -caparisoned 
mules  ;  donkey-drivers  leading  women  enveloped  in  great 
black  mantles,  and  looking  like  phantoms  of  which  naught 
was  visible  but  the  eyes ;  camel-drivers  shouting  to  the  crowd 
to  open  a  passage ;  Arnauts  with  an  audacious  and  threaten- 
ing air,  proud  of  their  Damascus  weapons  and  flowing  fusta- 
nella ;  peaceful  smokers  seated  with  crossed  legs  at  the  doors 
of  the  coffee-houses;  slaves  led  to  market — all  this  was  to 
Omar  a  Paradise  more  enchanting  than  any  of  which  he  had 
ever  dreamed.  In  such  an  abode,  what  could  not  be  bought 
and  what  could  not  be  sold  ?  Had  he  not  learned  the  price 
of  all  manner  of  things  from  his  father  on  the  road  ?  Did  he 
not  already  know  how  to  rate  the  integrity  of  a  cadi,  the  scru> 
pies  of  a  sheik,  and  even  the  conscience  of  a  pacha  ? 

At  the  end  of  a  narrow  and  gloomy  alley  stood  the  house 
of  Mansour.  There  was  nothing  about  the  building  calcula- 
ted to  attract  attention  ;  the  ground  floor  was  bare  and  unin- 
viting, and  furnished  only  with  a  few  rush  mats  along  the  white- 
washed walls  ;  but  on  ascending  to  the  next  story,  which  was 
carefully  closed,  and  furnished  with  blinds  that  defied  both 
the  sun  and  curiosity,  magnificent  rooms  met  the  eye,  covered 
with  Turkey  carpets,  and  surrounded  with  velvet  divans  em- 
broidered with  silver.  The  travelers  were  scarcely  seated 
when  a  chased  silver  salver  was  brought  them,  loaded  with  jel- 
lied fruits.  While  one  slave  poured  rose-water  on  Abdallah's 
bronzed  hands,  and  presented  him  a  napkin  fringed  with  gold, 
another  burned  incense  before  old  Mansour,  who  stroked  his 
beard  and  clothes  to  impregnate  them  with  the  fragrant  smoke ; 
coffee  was  then  served  in  tiny  porcelain  cups,  set  in  stands 


232  Fairy  Book. 

of  gold  filigree-work,  after  which  exquisite  sherbets,  prepared 
from  the  extract  of  violets  and  the  juice  of  pomegranates  ex- 
pressed through  the  rind,  were  offered  them.  Lastly,  three 
little  negroes,  dressed  in  scarlet  and  covered  with  bracelets 
and  necklaces,  lighted  long  jasmine  pipes  and  presented  one 
to  each  guest,  then  all  three  seated  themselves  on  the  ground, 
attentive  and  silent. 

They  smoked  long  without  speaking.  Mansqur  was  enjoy- 
ing the  delight  which  he  saw  in  his  son  and  the  admiration 
which  he  supposed  in  the  Arab.  But  the  Bedouin's  face  did 
not  change ;  amid  all  this  luxury  he  was  as  grave  and  tranquil 
as  if  in  the  midst  of  his  flocks.  What  are  the  luxuries  of  this 
world  to  him  who  expects  the  lasting  rewards  which  God  has 
in  store  for  the  faithful ! 

"  Well,  my  son,"  said  old  Mansour  at  last,  turning  toward 
Abdallah,  "  are  you  content  with  your  journey?" 

"  Father,"  replied  the  young  man,  "  I  thank  you  for  your 
hospitality.  Your  heart  is  even  richer  than  your  treasure." 

"  Well,  well,"  returned  the  merchant ;  "  but  what  I  want  to 
know  is  what  you  think  of  Djiddah?  Would  you  like  to  stay 
with  us  ?" 

"  No.  The  city  is  tainted  ;  the  air  is  pestilential,  the  water 
impure.  Then  those  idle  dervishes,  displaying  to  all  eyes 
their  impudence  and  their  covetousness,  and  those  slaves  who 
stand  there  to  deprive  us  of  the  use  of  our  hands,  and  who  spy 
out  our  passions  to  serve  them  !  Huzza,  for  the  desert !  Our 
terrible  winds  are  sweeter  to  me  than  the  hot,  heavy  air  of  this 
prison.  Among  the  tents  there  are  none  but  men.  Each  one 
rights  himself,  lance  in  hand.  The  dog  that  begs  through 
cowardice  is  thrust  out ;  the  haughty,  who  know  not  how  to 
respect  those  better  than  themselves,  are  humbled." 

"  Your  words  are  golden,  my  son,"  said  Mansour,  running 
his  fingers  through  his  long  beard ;  "  a  Wahabite  could  not  be 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     233 

more  austere.  I  thought  like  you  when  I  was  a  child  and  re- 
cited my  nurse's  lessons.  Stay  with  us  for  a  time ;  become  a 
merchant ;  when  you  see  how  fortune  invests  the  vilest  of  men 
with  authority,  youth,  and  virtue,  how  the  powerful  of  the  day, 
the  women,  and  even  the  saints  fall  down  and  worship  the 
metal  which  you  despise,  you  will  change  your  mind,  and  pre- 
fer even  the  unsavory  odor  of  cities.  It  is  beautiful  to  live 
like  the  lark,  free  in  space ;  but  sooner  or  later  all  are  snared 
like  it.  The  douro  is  the  king  of  the  world,  and  the  day 
comes  when  the  bravest,  like  the  wisest,  is  the  servant  of  the 
richest." 

"  I  know,"  returned  Abdallah,  proudly,  "  that  nothing  satis- 
fies the  sons  of  Adam ;  the  dust  of  the  grave  alone  has  pow- 
er to  fill  their  bellies ;  but  in  the  desert,  at  least,  an  ounce  of 
honor  is  worth  more  than  a  hundred  weight  of  gold.  With 
God's  aid,  I  will  live  like  my  ancestors.  He  who  desires 
naught  will  always  be  free.  Farewell,  therefore,  Mansour; 
farewell,  my  brother.  To-day  our  roads  part ;  may  that  which 
you  take  lead  you  to  the  end  which  all  the  faithful  should  de- 
sire !" 

.  "Farewell,  my  good  Abdallah,"  answered  Omar.  "Each 
of  us  follows  his  destiny.  What  is  written  is  written  :  you  were 
born  to  dwell  among  the  tents,  and  I  to  be  a  merchant.  Fare- 
well ;  I  shall  never  forget  the  friendship  of  my  childhood  j  if 
ever  I  am  in  need  of  a  stout  arm,  be  sure  that  I  shall  have  re- 
course to  you." 

"  Thanks,  my  brother,"  cried  the  Bedouin ;  and,  taking  Omar 
in  his  arms,  he  pressed  him  tenderly  to  his  heart,  without  re- 
straining or  hiding  his  tears. 

Omar  tranquilly  received  these  proofs  of  friendship,  and 
when  Abdallah,  with  drooping  head  and  dejected  mien,  had 
quitted  the  house  after  more  than  once  looking  back,  "  Say," 
said  he  to  his  father,  "  what  can  you  have  been  thinking  of,  to 


234  Fairy  Book. 

leave  me  so  long  with  that  Bedouin  ?  Suppose  you  had  died, 
and  I  had  appeared  to  claim  your  inheritance,  the  old  men  of 
the  city  would  have  said, '  We  have  known  Mansour  all  our 
lives,  and  have  never  heard  of  his  having  either  son  or  daugh- 
ter,' and  then  who  would  have  been  your  heir  if  not  the  pacha  ? 
Carry  me  quickly  to  the  bazar,  introduce  me  to  all  your  friends, 
the  merchants,  and,  above  all,  make  me  your  partner,  and  give 
me  a  warehouse  of  my  own.  I  feel  an  uncontrollable  desire 
to  handle  gold.  I  have  already  learned  to  calculate  among 
the  tents,  and  know  how  to  treat  men  in  order  to  gain  much 
and  risk  little.  You  shall  not  blush  for  your  son." 

"  My  child,"  cried  Mansour,  raising  his  trembling  hands  to 
heaven,  "  wisdom  speaks  through  your  mouth ;  but  the  day  is 
too  far  advanced  to  go  out,  and,  besides,  your  dress  is  not 
suitable.  To-morrow  we  will  go  to  the  bazar ;  to-morrow  all 
Djiddah  shall  know  my  glory  and  happiness." 

All  night  Omar  dreamed  of  gold  and  silver ;  all  night  Man- 
sour  tossed  on  his  bed,  unable  to  close  his  eyes  :  he  saw  him- 
self born  anew  in  a  son  shrewder,  more  cunning,  more  covet- 
ous, and  more  avaricious  than  himself.  "  Ah !"  he  exclaimed, 
in  his  joy,  "  I  am  the  happiest  of  fathers.  The  dervish  did 
not  deceive  me :  if  my  son  escapes  the  peril  that  threatens 
him,  who  knows  where  the  wealth  of  my  house  will  stop  ?" 

Madman,  thou  forgettest  that  if  gold  is  a  blessing  to  him 
that  gives  it,  it  is  a  poison  to  him  that  hoards  it.  He  who 
harbors  avarice  in  his  heart  harbors  there  the  enemy  of  man- 
kind, and  woe  to  him  who  chooses  Satan  for  a  companion ! 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     235 


V. 

THE   NEW   SOLOMON. 

THE  next  morning  at  daybreak  Mansour  led  his  son  to  the 
bath,  and  dressed  him  in  a  style  befitting  his  new  condition.  A 
silken  robe,  striped  with  bright  colors,  and  confined  round  the 
waist  by  a  Cashmere  girdle,  a  flowing  caftan  of  the  finest  and 
softest  cloth,  and  a  white  embroidered  cap,  round  which  was 
twisted  a  muslin  turban  — such  was  the  elegant  costume 
brought  by  the  most  fashionable  tailor  of  Djiddah.  In  this 
dress  the  features  of  the  Egyptian  seemed  harsher  and  his 
complexion  more  swarthy  than  ever.  The  tailor,  however, 
thought  otherwise ;  he  did  nothing  but  praise  the  beauty  and 
grace  of  Omar,  and  pity  the  ladies  of  the  city  who  should  look 
with  indifference  on  his  countenance,  more  beautiful  than  the 
moon  at  its  full.  When  nothing  more  remained  of  the  Bed- 
ouin of  the  day  before,  breakfast  was  served  and  sherbet 
brought  in  •  then,  after  sundry  counsels  from  old  Mansour, 
Omar,  mounted  on  a  mule,  and  modestly  falling  behind  his 
father,  took  the  way  with  him  to  the  bazar. 

The  Egyptian  led  his  son  to  a  shop  which  was  narrow,  like 
all  in  the  market,  but  crowded  with  precious  articles.  Shawls 
from  India,  satins  and  brocades  from  China,  carpets  from  Bas- 
sora,  yataghans  in  their  chased  silver  scabbards,  pipes  mount- 
ed with  amber  and  adorned  with  rubies,  rosaries  of  black 
coral,  necklaces  of  sequins  and  pearls,  all  that  could  seduce 
women,  all  that  could  ruin  men,  was  found  in  this  warehouse 
of  perdition.  A  stone  bench  ran  before  the  shop.  Mansour 
seated  himself  on  the  cushions  and  lighted  his  pipe ;  Omar 
took  his  beads  and  began  to  recite  his  prayers,  without  look- 
ing at  the  crowd. 

As  soon  as  the  merchants  perceived  the  syndic,  they  rose 


236  Fairy  Book. 

in  a  body,  and  went  to  repeat  the  Fat-hah,  and  to  wish  him 
good-morning.  Every  one  looked  with  surprise  at  the  new- 
comer, and  asked  his  neighbor  in  a  whisper  who  the  stranger 
could  be — whether  a  relative  of  the  Egyptian,  or  a  young  slave 
richly  dressed  in  order  to  draw  customers.  Mansour  called 
to  the  sheik,  and,  pointing  to  Omar, "  This  is  my  son,"  said 
he — "  my  partner  and  successor." 

"  Your  son !"  exclaimed  the  sheik.  "  Who  ever  heard  that 
the  rich  Mansour  had  an  heir  ?" 

"  I  wished  to  deceive  the  evil  eye,"  replied  the  old  man ; 
"  this  is  why  I  have  had  my  son  brought  up  at  a  distance  and 
in  secret.  I  did  not  intend  to  present  him  to  you  till  his 
beard  was  grown;  but  I  was  getting  old;  I  became  im- 
patient ;  and  to-day,  with  your  permission,  I  shall  place  him 
in  the  bazar  to  learn  of  you  the  art  of  buying  and  sell- 
ing." 

"  Mansour  is  always  wise,"  replied  the  merchants,  as  they 
vied  with  each  other  in  congratulating  the  happy  father  of 
such  a  son.  "May  the  Lord,"  they  exclaimed,  "preserve 
both  root  and  branch !" 

In  the  midst  of  these  wishes,  which  tickled  the  Egyptian's 
pride,  the  sheik  took  up  the  conversation.  "  Among  us,"  said 
he  to  Mansour,  "  when  a  son  or  daughter  is  born,  even  the 
poor  man  invites  his  friends  to  rejoice  with  him ;  have  you 
forgotten  us  ?" 

"  Honor  me  with  a  visit  this  evening,"  replied  the  old  man ; 
"you  shall  be  welcome." 

An  hour  after,  a  messenger,  carrying  a  huge  bouquet,  went 
through  the  market  offering  a  flower  to  each  merchant,  with 
the  words, "  Recite  the  Fat-hah  for  the  Prophet."  The  prayer 
ended,  "  Mansour  entreats  you,"  added  the  messenger,  "  to 
take  coffee  with  him  this  evening  at  his  house." 

"  Mansour  is  the  prince  of  the  generous,"  returned  the  in- 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     237 

vited  guest ;  "  with  the  blessing  of  God,  we  will  pay  our  re- 
spects this  evening  to  the  syndic." 

At  the  appointed  time,  the  Egyptian  and  his  son  received 
the  merchants  in  the  little  garden,  where  a  splendid  feast 
awaited  the  guests.  Lambs  stuffed  with  almonds  and  pis- 
tachio nuts,  rice  with  saffron,  cream  sauces  flavored  with  pep- 
per, rose  jellies,  pastry  of  all  kinds,  nothing  was  spared  to 
honor  guests  of  such  consequence.  For  the  first  time  Man- 
sour  desired  that  the  poor  should  partake  of  his  joy,  and  or- 
dered the  remains  of  the  feast,  with  some  small  silver  coin,  to 
be  distributed  among  them  before  the  door,  which  was  enough 
to  fill  the  street  with  huzzahs  and  blessings,  and  to  cause  the 
name  of  the  generous  Omar  and  the  rich  Mansour  to  resound 
from  one  end  of  Djiddah  to  the  other. 

Coffee  served  and  the  pipes  lighted,  the  sheik  took  Omar 
by  the  hand :  "  Behold  our  friend's  son,"  said  he  to  the  mer- 
chants, "who  desires  to  enter  our  honorable  company.  I 
beseech  each  one  to  recite  the  Fat-hah  for  the  Prophet." 

While  the  prayer  was  being  three  times  repeated,  the  sheik 
wound  a  shawl  round  Omar's  waist,  tying  a  knot  after  each 
Fat-hah.  The  ceremony  finished,  the  young  man  kissed  the 
hand  of  the  sheik  and  the  other  spectators,  beginning  with  the 
eldest.  His  eyes  sparkled  with  joy.  He  was  a  Djiddah  mer- 
chant ;  he  was  rich ;  the  world  was  opening  before  him. 

The  rest  of  the  evening  was  passed  in  conversation,  all 
bearing  upon  trade.  Omar  did  not  open  his  lips ;  he  stood 
near  the  elders  of  the  party,  who  did  not  weary  of  talking  to 
a  young  man  who  listened  with  such  attention  and  respect. 
They  told  him  how  a  good  salesman  should  always  ask  four 
times  the  value  of  the  article  haggled  for,  and  should  never 
lose  his  coolness,  which  is  the  secret  of  the  trade.  Trading 
is  like  trout-fishing ;  it  is  necessary  to  draw  on  the  customer 
and  give  him  line  till,  wearied  and  dazzled,  he  at  length  knows 


238  Fairy  Book. 

no  longer  how  to  defend  himself.  To  toy  with  a  rosary,  offer 
coffee  or  a  pipe,  talk  of  indifferent  things,  preserve  an  un- 
moved countenance,  and  yet  kindle  desire  in  the  soul  of  the 
purchaser,  is  a  difficult  act,  not  to  be  learned  in  a  day.  "  But," 
they  added,  caressing  Omar,  "  you  are  in  a  good  school,  my 
son ;  neither  Jew  nor  even  Armenian  can  overreach  the  wise 
Mansour." 

"  Is  commerce  nothing  more  than  this  ?"  said  the  young 
man  in  his  heart ;  "  in  that  case  I  have  no  need  of  these  peo- 
ple. To  think  only  and  always  of  one's  self,  and  to  make 
use  of  the  passions  or  weaknesses  of  others  to  strip  fools  of 
the  wealth  they  dote  on — I  have  known  this  from  my  birth ; 
I  did  nothing  else  in  the  desert ;  my  masters  will  be  shrewd, 
indeed,  if,  before  six  months  are  past,  I  do  not  give  them  a 
lesson." 

A  few  days  after,  Mansour  repaired  to  the  cadi  on  account 
of  a  suit,  the  issue  of  which  troubled  him  but  little.  A  private 
conversation  with  the  judge  had  given  him  hopes  of  the  justice 
of  his  cause.  The  old  man  asked  his  son  to  accompany  him, 
in  order  to  accustom  him  early  to  deal  with  the  law.  The  cadi 
was  seated  in  the  court-yard  of  the  mosque.  He  was  a  fat, 
good-looking  man,  who  never  thought,  and  talked  little,  which, 
added  to  his  large  turban  and  his  air  of  perpetual  astonish- 
ment, gave  him  a  great  reputation  for  justice  and  gravity. 
The  spectators  were  numerous  ;  the  principal  merchants  were 
seated  on  the  ground  on  carpets,  forming  a  semicircle  around 
the  magistrate.  Mansour  took  his  seat  a  little  way  from  the 
sheik,  and  Omar  placed  himself  between  the  two,  his  curios- 
ity strongly  excited  to  see  how  the  law  was  obeyed,  and  how 
it  was  trifled  with  in  case  of  need. 

The  first  case  called  was  that  of  a  young  Banian,  as 
yellow  as  an  orange,  with  loose-flowing  robes  and  an  effem- 
inate air,  who  had  lately  landed  from  India,  and  who  com- 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     239 

plained  of  having  been  cheated  by  one   of  Mansour's   ri- 
vals. 

"  Having  found  a  casket  full  of  diamonds  among  the  effects 
bequeathed  to  me  by  my  father  at  Delhi,"  said  the  young 
man, "  I  set  out  for  Egypt  in  order  to  live  there  in  opulence 
on  the  proceeds  of  their  sale.  I  was  obliged  by  bad  weather 
to  put  in  at  Djiddah,  where  I  was  retained  by  the  pleasures 
of  the  city,  and  soon  found  myself  in  want  of  money.  I 
was  assured  that,  if  I  wished  to  dispose  of  my  diamonds,  I 
should  find  a  good  market  here.  I  went  to  the  bazar,  and' 
inquired  for  a  dealer  in  precious  stones.  The  richest,  I  was 
told,  was  Mansour,  the  most  honest  was  Ali  the  jeweler.  I 
applied  to  the  latter.  As  soon  as  he  learned  the  object  of 
my  visit,  he  welcomed  me  like  a  son,  and,  refusing  to  talk  of 
business  at  the  bazar,  carried  me  home  with  him.  For  sev- 
eral days  he  treated  me  in  the  most  generous  manner,  gained 
my  confidence  by  every  kind  of  attention,  and  advanced  me 
all  the  money  I  needed.  One  day,  after  dinner,  when  I  was 
not  quite  sober,  he  asked  me  for  the  casket,  examined  the  di- 
amonds one  by  one,  and  said,  with  feigned  pity, '  My  child, 
these  stones  are  of  little  value  in  Arabia  and  Egypt.  The 
rocks  of  our  desert  furnish  them  by  thousands ;  my  coffers 
are  full  of  them.'  To  prove  the  truth  of  what  he  said,  he 
opened  a  box,  and,  taking  therefrom  a  diamond  thrice  as  large 
as  any  of  mine,  gave  it  to  the  slave  that  was  with  me. 

"  '  What  will  become  of  me  !'  I  cried.  '  I  have  no  other 
fortune  ;  I  thought  myself  rich,  and  here  I  am  poor,  a  stranger, 
and  far  from  my  family  and  country.' 

" '  My  child,'  replied  the  treacherous  jeweler, '  I  conceived 
a  friendship  for  you  at  first  sight.  A  Mussulman  never  for- 
sakes his  friends  in  trouble.  Leave  this  casket  with  me,  and, 
to  oblige  you,  I  will  give  you  a  price  for  it  such  as  no  one  else 
would  offer.  Choose  whatever  you  wish  in  Djiddah — gold, 


240  Fairy  Book. 

silver,  or  coral — and  in  two  hours  I  promise  to  give  you  an 
equal  weight  of  what  you  have  chosen  in  exchange  for  your 
Indian  stones.' 

"  On  returning  home,  night  brought  reflection.  I  made  in- 
quiries, and  soon  learned  that  Ali  had  been  fooling  me.  What 
he  had  given  to  the  slave  was  nothing  but  a  bit  of  crystal. 
Diamonds  are  scarcer  at  Djiddah  than  in  India,  and  are  worth 
ten  times  their  weight  in  gold.  I  demanded  my  casket.  Ali 
refused  to  restore  it.  Venerable  magistrate,  my  sole  hope  is 
in  your  justice.  I  entreat  you  to  espouse  the  cause  of  a 
stranger,  and  may  the  wretch  who  has  ruined  me  drink  boil- 
ing water  for  all  eternity !" 

It  was  Ali's  turn  to  speak.  "  Illustrious  servant  of  God," 
said  he  to  the  cadi,  "  this  young  man's  story  is  true  in  but  one 
particular,  namely,  that  we  have  made  a  bargain,  and  that  I 
am  ready  to  keep  it.  All  the  rest  is  of  his  own  invention. 
What  matters  it  what  I  gave  the  slave ;  could  a  sensible  man 
have  seen  in  it  any  thing  else  than  a  jest  ?  Did  I  force  the 
stranger  to  leave  his  casket  in  my  hands?  .Was  it  my  fault 
if  want  of  money  made  him  accept  my  conditions  ?  Why  does 
he  accuse  me  of  treachery  ?  Have  I  broken  my  word,  and  has 
he  kept  his?" 

"  Young  man,"  said  the  cadi  to  the  Banian, "  have  you  wit- 
nesses to  prove  that  Ali  deceived  you  as  to  the  value  of  your 
merchandise  ?  If  not,  I  shall  put  the  accused  on  his  oath,  as 
the  law  decrees." 

A  Koran  was  brought.  Ali  placed  his  right  hand  on  the 
sacred  book,  and  repeated  three  times, "  In  the  name  of  God 
the  Omnipotent,  and  by  the  word  of  God  that  is  contained  in 
this  book,  I  swear  that  I  have  not  deceived  this  stranger.  I 
swear  it  here  to-day,"  he  added,  turning  toward  the  assembly, 
"  as  I  shall  swear  it  on  the  judgment-day  before  God  as  cadi, 
with  the  angels  for  witnesses." 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     241 

"  Wretch,"  said  the  Banian,  "  thou  art  among  those  whose 
feet  go  down  to  destruction.  Thou  hast  thrown  away  thy 
soul." 

"  That  may  be,"  whispered  the  sheik  to  Omar, "  but  he  has 
gained  a  huge  fortune.  This  Ali  is  a  shrewd  knave." 

"  He  is  no  ordinary  man,"  added  Mansour.  "  This  may  be 
called  a  game  well  played." 

Omar  smiled,  and,  while  Ali  was  enjoying  the  success  of  his 
ruse,  he  approached  the  stranger,  who  burst  into  tears. 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  help  you  to  gain  the  suit  ?"  asked  he.- 

"  Yes,"  cried  the  East  Indian  ;  "  confound  this  wretch,  and 
you  may  ask  of  me  what  you  will.  But  you  are  only  a  child ; 
you  can  do  nothing." 

"  I  only  ask  you  to  have  confidence  in  me  for  a  few  mo- 
ments," returned  the  Egyptian.  "  Accept  Ali's  bargain ;  let 
me  choose  in  your  stead,  and  fear  nothing." 

"  What  can  I  fear  after  having  lost  all  ?"  murmured  the 
stranger,  letting  his  head  fall  again  on  his  bosom  like  a  man 
bereft  of  all  hope.  Nevertheless,  he  turned  to  the  cadi,  and, 
bowing  respectfully, "  Oh,  my  lord,  and  master,"  said  he,  "  thy 
slave  implores  a  last  favor  of  thy  mercy ;  let  the  bargain  be 
consummated,  since  the  law  decrees  it,  but  permit  this  young 
man  to  choose  in  my  stead  what  I  shall  receive  in  payment." 

A  profound  silence  ensued.  Omar  rose,  and,  bowing  to 
the  cadi,  "Ali,"  said  he  to  the  jeweler,  "you  have  doubtless 
brought  the  casket,  and  can  tell  us  the  weight  thereof?" 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  the  merchant ;  "  it  weighs  twenty  pounds. 
Choose  what  you  will,  I  repeat ;  if  the  thing  asked  for  is  to  be 
found  in  Djiddah,  you  shall  have  it  within  two  hours,  other- 
wise the  bargain  is  null  and  void.  All  know  that  my  word  is 
sacred,  and  that  I  never  break  it." 

"  What  we  desire,"  said  Omar,  raising  his  voice,  "  is  ants' 
wings,  half  male  and  half  female.  You  have  two  hours  in 

L 


242  Fairy  Book. 

which  to  furnish  the  twenty  pounds  you  have  promised 
us." 

"This  is  absurd,"  cried  the  jeweler;  "it  is  impossible.  I 
should  need  half  a  score  of  persons  and  six  months'  labor  to 
satisfy  this  foolish  demand.  It  is  trifling  with  justice  to  in- 
troduce these  childish  caprices  into  this  place." 

"  Are  there  any  winged  ants  in  Djiddah?"  asked  the  cadi. 

"Of  course,"  answered  the  merchants,  laughing ;  "they  are 
one  of  the  plagues  of  Egypt.  Our  houses  are  full  of  them, 
and  it  would  be  doing  us  a  great  service  to  rid  us  of  them." 

"  Then  Ali  must  keep  his  promise  or  give  back  the  casket," 
said  the  cadi.  "This  young  man  was  mad  to  sell  his  dia- 
monds weight  for  weight ;  he  is  mad  to  exact  such  a  payment. 
So  much  the  better  for  Ali  the  first  time ;  so  much  the  worse 
for  him  the  second.  Justice  has  not  two  weights  and  meas- 
ures. Every  bargain  holds  good  before  the  law.  Either  fur- 
nish twenty  pounds  of  ants'  wings,  or  restore  the  casket  to  the 
Banian." 

"A  righteous  judgment,"  shouted  the  spectators,  wonder- 
struck  at  such  equity. 

The  stranger,  beside  himself  with  joy,  embraced  Omar,  call- 
ing him  his  savior  and  master ;  nor  did  he  stop  there  :  taking 
from  the  casket  three  diamonds  of  the  finest  water,  as  large  as 
nightingale's  eggs,  he  forced  them  on  Omar,  who  put  them  in 
his  girdle,  respectfully  kissed  the  Banian's  right  hand,  and 
seated  himself  by  his  father,  his  gravity  unmoved  by  the  gaze 
of  the  assembly. 

"  Well  done,  my  friend,"  said  Mansour ;  "  but  Ali  is  a  nov- 
ice ;  had  he  not  neglected  the  cadi  he  would  have  gained  his 
suit.  It  is  my  turn  now ;  mark  me  well,  and  profit  by  the  les- 
son I  shall  give  you.  Stop,  young  man !"  he  cried  to  the  East 
Indian,  who  was  carrying  off  the  diamonds,  "  we  have  an  ac- 
count to  settle.  I  entreat  the  illustrious  cadi  to  keep  this 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     243 

casket  for  a  moment ;  there  may  be  those  here  who  have  a 
better  right  to  it  than  either  this  stranger  or  the  prudent  Ali." 

There  was  universal  surprise  among  the  spectators,  and  all 
listened  to  the  new  claimant. 

"  The  day  before  yesterday,"  said  Mansour,  "  a  veiled  lady 
entered  my  shop  in  the  bazar  and  asked  to  look  at  some 
necklaces.  Nothing  that  I  showed  her  pleased  her  taste,  and 
she  was  about  to  leave  the  shop,  when  she  spied  a  sealed  box 
in  a  corner,  and  entreated  me  to  open  it.  This  box  contained 
a  set  of  topazes  which  were  no  longer  at  my  disposal,  having 
been  already  sold  to  the  Pacha  of  Egypt.  I  told  the  lady  this, 
but  she  insisted  on  at  least  seeing  the  gift  destined  for  a 
sultana.  A  woman's  wish  is  a  thing  not  easily  thwarted. 
There  are  three  kinds  of  obstinacy  that  are  irresistible — that 
of  princes,  of  children,  and  of  women.  I  was  so  weak  as  to 
yield.  The  stranger  looked  at  the  necklace,  tried  it  on,  and 
declared  that  she  would  have  it  at  any  price.  On  my  refusal, 
she  quitted  the  bazar,  loading  me  with  threats  and  maledic- 
tions. An  hour  after,  this  young  man  entered  my  shop,  and, 
bursting  into  tears,  kissed  my  hand  and  entreated  me  to  sell 
him  the  necklace,  saying  that  his  own  life  and  that  of  the  lady 
depended  on  it.  '  Ask  of  me  what  you  will,  my  father,'  said 
he,  'but  I  must  have  these  gems  or  die.'  I  have  a  weakness 
for  young  men,  and,  though  I  knew  the  danger  of  disappoint 
ing  my  master  the  pacha,  I  was  unable  to  resist  his  supplica- 
tions. '  Take  the  topazes,'  said  I  to  the  stranger, '  but  prom- 
ise to  give  whatever  I  may  ask  in  exchange.'  '  My  head  itself, 
if  you  will,  for  you  have  saved  my  life,'  he  replied,  as  he 
carried  off  the  necklace.  We  were  without  witnesses,"  add- 
ed Mansour,  turning  to  the  Banian,  "but  is  not  my  story 
true?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  young  man,  "  and  I  beg  your  pardon  for 
not  having  satisfied  you  sooner :  you  know  the  cause.  Now 


244  Fairy  Book. 

that  I  have  recovered  my  fortune,  thanks  to  your  son,  ask  of 
me  what  you  desire." 

"  What  I  desire,"  said  Mansour,  nodding  to  the  pacha,  who 
was  gazing  fixedly  at  a  palm-tree,  "  what  I  desire  is  this  casket 
with  all  its  contents.  It  is  not  too  much  for  a  man  who  risks 
his  life  by  disobeying  the  pacha.  Illustrious  magistrate,  your 
excellency  has  declared  that  all  bargains  hold  good  before  the 
law :  this  young  man  has  promised  to  give  me  what  I  please  ; 
now  I  declare  that  nothing  pleases  me  but  these  diamonds." 

The  cadi  raised  his  head  and  looked  about  the  assembly  as 
if  to  interrogate  the  faces,  then  stroked  his  beard  and  relapsed 
into  his  meditations. 

"  AH  is  defeated,"  said  the  sheik  to  Omar,  with  a  smile. 
"  The  fox  is  not  yet  born  more  cunning  than  the  worthy  Man- 
sour." 

"  I  am  lost !"  cried  the  Banian.  "  Oh,  Omar,  have  you 
saved  me  only  to  cast  me  down  from  the  highest  pinnacle  of 
joy  to  the  depths  of  despair  ?  Persuade  your  father  to  spare 
me,  that  I  may  owe  my  life  to  you  a  second  time." 

"  Well,  my  son,"  said  Mansour,  "  doubtless  you  are  shrewd, 
but  this  will  teach  you  that  your  father  knows  rather  more 
than  you  do.  The  cadi  is  about  to  decide :  try  whether  you 
can  dictate  his  decree." 

"It  is  mere  child's  play,"  answered  Omar,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  ;  "  but,  since  you  desire  it,  my  father,  you  shall  lose 
your  suit."  He  rose,  and,  taking  a  piastre  from  his  girdle, 
put  it  into  the  hand  of  the  Banian,  who  laid  it  before  the 
judge. 

"  Illustrious  cadi,"  said  he,  "this  young  man  is  ready  to  ful- 
fill his  engagement.  This  is  what  he  offers  Mansour — a  pi- 
astre. In  itself,  this  coin  is  of  little  value  ;*  but  examine  it 
closely,  and  you  will  see  that  it  is  stamped  with  the  likeness 

*  About  four  cents. 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     245 

of  the  sultan,  our  glorious  master.  May  God  destroy  and  con- 
found all  who  disobey  his  highness !  It  is  this  precious  like- 
ness that  we  offer  you,"  added  Omar,  turning  to  Mansour ;  "if 
it  pleases  you,  you  are  paid ;  to  dare  to  say  that  it  displeases 
you  is  an  insult  to  the  pacha,  a  crime  punishable  by  death ; 
and  I  am  sure  that  our  worthy  cadi  will  not  become  your  ac- 
complice— he  who  always  has  been  and  always  will  be  the 
faithful  servant  of  all  the  sultans." 

When  Omar  had  finished  speaking,  all  eyes  turned  toward 
the  cadi,  who,  more  impenetrable  than  ever,  stroked  his  face 
and  waited  for  the  old  man  to  come  to  his  aid.  Mansour 
was  agitated  and  embarrassed.  The  silence  of  the  cadi  and 
the  assembly  terrified  him,  and  he  cast  a  supplicating  glance 
toward  his  son. 

"  My  father,"  said  Omar,  "  permit  this  young  man  to  thank 
you  for  the  lesson  of  prudence  which  you  have  given  him  by 
frightening  him  a  little.  He  knows  well  that  it  was  you  who 
sent  me  to  his  aid,  and  that  all  this  is  a  farce.  None  is  de- 
ceived by  hearing  the  son  oppose  the  father,  and  who  has 
ever  doubted  Mansour's  experience  and  generosity  ?" 

"  No  one,"  interrupted  the  cadi,  starting  up  like  a  man  sud- 
denly awakened  from  a  dream,  "  and  I  least  of  all ;  and  this 
is  why  I  have  permitted  you  to  speak,  my  young  Solomon.  I 
wished  to  honor  in  you  the  wisdom  of  your  father ;  but  an- 
other time  avoid  meddling  with  his  highness's  name ;  it  is  not 
safe  to  sport  with  the  lion's  paws.  The  matter  is  settled.  The 
necklace  is  worth  a  hundred  thousand  piastres,  is  it  not,  Man- 
sour  ?  This  madcap  shall  give  you,  therefore,  a  hundred  thou- 
sand piastres,  and  all  parties  will  be  satisfied." 

Despite  his  modesty,  Omar  could  not  escape  the  gratitude 
of  the  East  Indian  or  the  praises  of  the  merchants.  The 
former  tried  to  force  the  casket  into  his  hands ;  and  it  was 
impossible  to  prevent  him  from  seizing  the  bridle  of  the  mule 


246  Fairy  Book. 

that  carried  Omar,  and  accompanying  to  his  door  him  whom 
he  styled  the  most  generous  and  wisest  of  men.  The  mer- 
chants, on  their  side,  heaped  congratulations  on  Mansour; 
and  the  celebrated  case  which  called  forth  the  wisdom  of  him 
whom  the  sagacious  cadi  styled  the  new  Solomon  is  still  talk- 
ed of  at  Djiddah. 

Once  at  home,  Mansour  broke  forth  into  reproaches.  "  I 
can  not  understand  you,  my  son,"  said  he.  "  I  had  a  fortune 
in  my  hands,  and  you  have  snatched  it  from  me.  Is  this  your 
idea  of  business  ?  Is  this  the  respect  that  you  show  your 
father?" 

"  Have  patience,  my  father,"  replied  Omar,  coldly.  "  To- 
day I  have  made  myself  a  reputation  for  prudence  and  prob- 
ity. It  is  a  noise  that  will  be  lasting,  a  first  impression  that 
will  never  be  effaced.  Reputation  is  a  jewel  which  nothing 
can  replace ;  it  is  ten  thousand  times  more  valuable  capital 
than  your  diamonds.  All  distrust  Mansour's  cunning,  but  all 
will  confide,  like  this  foreigner,  in  Omar's  honesty  and  integ- 
rity. The  bait  is  thrown,  the  trout  will  not  be  long  in  com- 
ing." 

Mansour  stood  confounded.  He  had  desired  a  son  that 
should  be  worthy  of  himself;  he  began  to  fear  that  Eblis  had 
granted  his  prayer  too  literally.  He  admired  Omar  indeed  ; 
such  calculation  at  so  tender  an  age  could  not  but  delight  a 
man  whose  whole  life  had  been  one  of  calculation.  But — 
it  must  be  confessed  to  the  old  man's  shame — this  precocious 
experience  chilled  his  heart,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  he  stood 
appalled  before  this  sage  of  fifteen. 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.    247 


VI. 

VIRTUE   REWARDED. 

NOTHING  was  wanting  to  Mansour's  happiness ;  during  the 
five  remaining  years  of  his  life  the  merchant  could  fully  en- 
joy the  education  and  success  of  his  son.  He  saw  all  his 
trade  pass  into  Omar's  hands ;  the  wealth  of  his  house  be- 
came enormous,  and,  as  is  always  the  case,  public  esteem 
increased  in  proportion  to  wealth.  How  could  Omar  help 
succeeding  ?  He  had  every  thing  in  his  favor ;  an  abundance 
of  money,  few  passions,  and  no  scruples.  None  had  ever 
combined  to  such  a  degree  what  constitutes  genius  in  busi- 
ness— love  of  gold  and  contempt  of  men.  Mansour  could 
therefore  breathe  his  last  in  peace.  His  life  had  been  long, 
disease  had  spared  his  old  age,  his  dreams  were  realized,  and 
he  was  sure  of  leaving  an  heir  behind  him  who  would  keep 
and  increase  the  fortune  accumulated  with  such  difficulty; 
yet  it  is  affirmed  that  the  Egyptian  died  with  his  heart  rilled 
with  rage,  crying  out  that  no  one  loved  him,  execrating  his 
folly,  and  trembling  at  the  sight  of  his  treasures,  as  if  the  gold, 
heated  in  the  infernal  fire,  already  lay  a  burning  weight  on 
his  breast  and  brow. 

Omar  heard  of  his  father's  death  with  complete  resigna- 
tion. Business  had  called  him  away  from  his  dying  bed; 
business  was  his  consolation.  His  courage  was  worthy  of  ad- 
miration ;  a.t  the  mere  sight  of  a  piastre,  he  dried  up  his  tears 
and  stifled  his  sorrow. 

Left  alone  with  so  noble  an  inheritance,  the  son  of  Man- 
sour  set  no  bounds  to  his  desires.  Nothing  escaped  his 
schemes ;  it  seemed  as  if  from  within  his  little  house  in  Djid- 
dah,  like  the  spider  in  his  web,  he  drew  all  the  wealth  of  the 
world  into  his  invisible  net.  Rice  and  sugar  from  India; 


248  Fairy  Book. 

gum  and  coffee  from  Yemen  ;  ivory,  gold  dust,  and  slaves 
from  Abyssinia ;  corn  from  Egypt ;  tissues  from  Syria ;  ships 
and  caravans — all  came  to  Omar.  Yet  never  did  man  wel- 
come good  fortune  more  modestly.  To  see  him  in  the  street 
in  his  rusty  clothes  and  scanty  turban,  his  eyes  cast  down, 
telling  his  wooden  beads  with  his  fingers,  he  would  not  have 
been  thought  worth  twenty  thousand  piastres.  Nothing  be- 
trayed the  rich  man  in  his  conversation  j  he  was  familiar  with 
his  inferiors,  free  and  easy  with  his  equals,  cringing  toward 
those  from  whom  he  hoped  for  any  thing,  and  respectful  to- 
ward those  who  had  it  in  their  power  to  do  him  an  injury. 
According  to  him,  it  was  a  great  mistake  to  attribute  to  him  a 
large  fortune ;  all  this  merchandise  was  not  his  property,  but 
consignments  from  foreign  correspondents  who  had  confi- 
dence in  him — a  confidence  which  must  have  cost  him  dear, 
for  he  constantly  complained  of  losing  money.  If  he  bought 
the  handsomest  slaves,  the  richest  perfumes,  the  choicest  to- 
bacco, and  the  rarest  stuffs,  it  was  always  for  some  pacha  or 
foreign  trader.  It  was  whispered  that  these  treasures  never 
left  the  Egyptian's  house — who  can  silence  men's  tongues  ? — 
but  nothing  certain  was  known.  Omar  had  no  friends,  trans- 
acted his  business  at  the  bazar,  and  received  no  visits.  Wheth- 
er he  was  poor  or  rich,  a  sage  or  an  egotist,  humble  or  hypo- 
critical, was  the  secret  of  Satan. 

His  prudence  was  on  a  par  with  his  modesty.  Beginning 
with  the  pacha  and  ending  with  the  collector  of  customs,  there 
was  not  an  officer  at  Djiddah,  great  or  small,  with  whose  pipe- 
bearer,  groom,  or  favorite  slave  Omar  was  not  acquainted. 
He  was  not  fond  of  giving,  and  often  repeated  the  maxim  of 
the  Koran  that  prodigals  are  the  brethren  of  Satan,  but  he 
knew  how  to  open  his  hand  at  the  right  time,  and  no  one 
ever  repented  a  service  rendered  this  honest  man.  Pachas 
pass  away  quickly  at  Djiddah ;  the  hand  of  the  Turk  is  heavy, 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     249 

and  the  richest  merchants  were  often  forced  to  pay  a  ransom. 
The  son  of  Mansour  alone  escaped  these  loans,  which  are 
never  repaid.  Within  a  week,  by  one  means  or  another,  he 
was  the  friend,  it  was  even  said  the  banker,  of  the  new  govern- 
or, and  the  storm  which  had  threatened  him  always  burst  on 
other  heads  than  his,  so  that  he  was  an  object  of  astonish- 
ment and  envy  to  all  his  brethren. 

The  day  came,  however,  when  his  star  paled.  A  pacha, 
who  had  made  a  fortune  in  three  months  in  rather  too  obvi- 
ous a  manner,  was  recalled  to  Constantinople,  and  his  success- 
or received  orders  to  be  an  honest  man,  the  government  be- 
ing anxious  to  please  the  Franks,  of  whom,  unhappily,  it  stood 
in  need,  and  who  were  raising  a  great  outcry.  Turk  as  he 
was,  the  new  pacha  understood  how  to  give  satisfaction  in 
high  places.  The  day  after  his  arrival,  he  went  in  disguise  to 
buy  provisions  of  the  chief  butcher  and  baker  in  Djiddah. 
The  mohtesib,  or  inspector  of  the  market,  was  forewarned,  and 
was  ready  in  the  street,  with  his  clerks  and  great  scales,  to 
weigh  what  the  pacha  had  just  bought.  The  twelve  pounds 
of  bread  fell  short  two  ounces,  and  the  huge  quarter  of  mut- 
ton one  ounce.  The  crime  was  a  flagrant  one,  and  the  of- 
fenders were  speedily  brought  to  justice.  The  pacha  over- 
whelmed the  wretches  who  fattened  on  the  sweat  of  the  peo- 
ple with  abuse  and  reproaches,  and,  in  his  just  anger,  refused 
to  listen  to  their  defense,  but  ordered  them  to  be  instantly 
stripped,  bound,  and  bastinadoed,  after  which,  by  express  com- 
mand, the  baker  was  nailed  by  the  ear  to  his  shop  door,  and 
the  butcher  was  fastened  to  one  of  the  windows  of  the  great 
mosque,  after  having  his  nose  pierced  with  an  iron  wire,  from 
which  the  ounce  of  meat  which  he  had  stolen  was  suspended. 
The  populace  heaped  every  species  of  outrage  upon  the  two 
unfortunates ;  God  was  glorified  throughout  the  whole  city, 
the  pacha  was  styled  the  friend  of  the  people,  the  lover  of 

L2 


250  Fairy  Book. 


justice,  and  the  new  Haroun  Al-Raschid ;  and  the  story  of 
this  virtuous  deed,  after  rejoicing  the  sultan,  spread  to  the 
West,  to  the  confusion  and  despair  of  the  infidels. 

The  same  evening  several  of  the  merchants  freighted  a 
ship  for  Egypt,  having  suddenly  learned  that  their  presence 
was  needed  at  Cairo.  Omar,  instead  of  giving  way  to  terror, 
calmly  stroked  his  beard.  "  Virtue  is  a  kind  of  merchandise 
not  in  the  market,"  thought  he  ;  "  when  it  is  needed,  therefore, 
it  must  be  bought  dear."  Whereupon  he  repaired  to  the  ba- 
zar, chanced  to  meet  the  pacha's  secretary,  made  him  sit  down 
beside  him,  and  offered  him  a  pipe  by  mistake  that  had  been 
designed  for  the  sultan. 

"  It  is  always  bad  policy  to  do  justice  to  the  people,"  said 
Omar  to  the  secretary ;  "  once  led  into  bad  habits,  they  grow 
exacting.  It  is  a  death-blow  to  large  speculations."  The 
secretary  gazed  at  his  magnificent  pipe,  and  thought  Omar  a 
man  of  sense. 

Alas!  the  Egyptian  had  judged  but  too  rightly.  The  first 
market-day  grain  was  found  to  have  risen  two  piastres  an 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     251 

ardeb.*  The  populace  became  excited ;  two  men  especially 
talked  with  extreme  vehemence — the  butcher  whose  nose  had 
been  slit  and  the  one-eared  baker.  The  cheats  of  yesterday 
had  become  the  heroes  of  to-day ;  they  were  pitied  as  vic- 
tims, and  the  more  they  clamored,  the  more  they  were  ad- 
mired. 

From  word  to  deed  there  is  but  a  step  among  the  populace. 
The  mob  was  already  attempting  to  burst  open  Omar's  house 
when  the  chief  of  the  police,  surrounded  by  soldiers,  came  to 
summon  the  merchant  before  the  pacha.  Omar  received  the 
officer  with  an  emotion  that  may  be  easily  understood,  and 
fervently  glued  his  lips  to  his  hand  ;  but  the  chief  of  the  police 
hastily  withdrew  it,  and  thrust  it  clenched  into  his  girdle,  as  if 
polluted  by  the  kiss  of  a  criminal.  Nevertheless,  he  neither 
abused  nor  maltreated  the  son  of  Mansour,  to  the  great  dis- 
pleasure of  the  populace,  which  loves  justice,  and  is  not  sorry 
to  see  a  man  accused  of  crime  treated  as  though  convicted  of 
it,  especially  when  he  is  rich ;  on  the  contrary,  the  chief  of  the 
police  more  than  once  urged  the  prisoner  to  rely  on  the  equity 
of  the  governor. 

"  What  is  written  is  written,"  replied  the  Egyptian,  telling 
his  beads  one  by  one. 

The  doors  of  the  palace  were  open,  and  the  people  throng- 
ed into  the  court-yard,  where  the  pacha  sat,  grave  and  impas- 
sive, calming  the  turbulent  passions  around  him  by  his  pres- 
ence. The  two  accusers  were  brought  forward  ;  the  governor 
commanded  them  to  speak  without  fear.  "  Justice  for  all  is 
my  duty,"  said  he,  aloud ;  "  rich  or  poor,  no  plunderer  shall 
find  grace  in  my  sight." 

"God  is  great  and  the  pacha  is  just,"  cried  the  crowd; 
whereupon  four  merchants,  quaking  with  fear,  were  thrust  be- 
fore the  tribunal,  all  of  whom  kissed  the  Koran,  and  swore 

*  About  five  bushels. 


252  Fairy  Book. 

that  Omar  had  bought  from  them  all  the  corn  imported  from 
Egypt. 

"  Death !  death !"  cried  the  people.  The  pacha  made  a  sign 
that  the  accused  should  be  heard,  and  silence  ensued. 

"  Oh,  my  lord  and  master,"  cried  Omar,  prostrating  his  fore- 
head on  the  earth, "  your  slave  places  his  head  in  your  hands. 
God  loves  those  who  show  mercy ;  the  meaner  the  culprit,  the 
more  noble  is  it  not  to  crush  him.  Solomon  himself  spared 
the  ant.  It  is  true  that  I  have  bought  a  few  cargoes  of  corn 
in  the  harbor  of  Djiddah,  as  any  honest  merchant  may  do ; 
but  all  here,  except  my  enemies,  know  that  the  purchase  was 
made  for  my  master  the  sultan.  This  corn  is  designed  for  the 
troops  posted  by  your  highness  on  the  road  to  Mecca  for  the 
protection  of  the  pilgrims ;  so,  at  least,  I  was  told  by  your 
highness's  secretary,  when  he  gave  me  the  money  in  your 
name,  which  a  poor  man  like  me  was  not  able  to  advance. 
May  my  master  pardon  me  for  delaying  so  long  to  send  him 
the  thousand  ardebs  of  corn  that  he  ordered  :  the  chief  of  the 
police  will  tell  your  highness  that  force  alone  has  prevented 
me  from  obeying  him." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  a  thousand  ardebs  of  corn  ?"  asked 
the  governor,  fiercely. 

"  Forgive  me,  my  lord,"  returned  Omar,  in  an  agitated  voice, 
"  I  am  so  much  troubled  that  it  is  difficult  for  me  to  reckon 
correctly.  I  believe  that  it  was  fifteen  hundred,"  he  added, 
gazing  at  the  contracted  features  of  the  pacha, "  if  not,  indeed, 
two  thousand." 

"  It  was  three  thousand,"  said  the  secretary,  handing  a  pa- 
per to  the  governor.  "  Here  is  the  order  given  to  this  man, 
in  my  own  hand-writing,  under  the  seal  of  your  highness." 

"  And  has  the  merchant  received  the  money  ?"  asked  the 
pacha,  in  a  softened  tone. 

"  Yes,  your  excellency,"  replied  Omar,  bowing  anew.    "  The 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     253 

chief  of  the  police,  here  present,  will  tell  you  that  he  transmit- 
ted this  order  to  me,  and  your  highness's  secretary  advanced 
me  yesterday  the  two  hundred  thousand  piastres  which  I 
needed  for  the  purchase.  I  am  therefore  responsible  to  the 
pacha  for  two  hundred  thousand  piastres  or  three  thousand 
ardebs  of  corn." 

"  Then  what  is  all  this  noise  about  ?"  exclaimed  the  pacha, 
looking  savagely  at  the  two  frightened  accusers.  "  Is  this  the 
respect  you  pay  my  master  the  sultan  ?  Are  the  .soldiers  who 
protect  the  holy  pilgrims  to  die  of  famine  in  the  desert? 
Seize  these  two  knaves,  and  give  each  of  them  thirty  strokes 
of  the  bastinado.  Justice  for  all,  and  no  grace  for  false  wit- 
nesses. To  accuse  an  innocent  man  is  to  rob  him  of  more 
than  life." 

"Well  said,"  cried  the  multitude  ;  "the  pacha  is  right." 
The  sentence  pronounced,  the  butcher  was  seized  by  four 
soldiers,  who  did  not  scruple  to  do  justice  in  their  own  cause. 
A  running  noose  was  passed  round  the  prisoner's  ankles  and 
fastened  to  a  stake,  after  which  one  of  the  Arnauts,  armed 
with  a  stick,  beat  the  soles  of  his  feet  with  all  his  might.  The 
butcher  was  a  hero  in  his  way ;  he  counted  the  strokes  one  by 
one,  and,  the  punishment  being  ended,  was  carried  off  by  his 
friends,  casting  furious  glances  at  Omar.  The  slit-eared  man 
was  less  resolute ;  at  every  blow  he  uttered  Allah !  with  a 
groan  that  might  have  melted  a  heart  of  stone.  At  the  twelfth 
stroke  Omar  kissed  the  ground  before  the  pacha  and  entreat- 
ed pardon  for  the  culprit,  which  was  graciously  granted.  This 
was  not  all ;  he  slipped  a  douro  into  the  wounded  man's  hand 
before  all  the  people,  and  declared  that  he  had  thirty  ardebs 
of  corn  left,  which  should  be  divided  among  the  poor,  then 
returned  home  amid  the  blessings  of  those  very  persons  who, 
an  hour  before,  were  ready  to  tear  him  to  pieces.  Praises  or 
threats,  he  received  both  with  the  same  humility  or  the  same 


254  Fairy  Book. 

indifference.  "  Allah  be  praised  !"  said  he,  on  entering  his 
house.  "  The  pacha  drove  rather  a  hard  bargain,  but  now  I 
have  him  in  my  hands." 

Tranquil  in  this  respect,  the  son  of  Mansour  resumed  his 
ingenious  schemes.  Thanks  to  him,  the  wealth  of  Djiddah 
increased  daily.  One  morning,  on  waking,  the  slave-dealers 
learned  with  joy  that  the  price  of  their  merchandise  had 
doubled.  Unfortunately,  they  had  sold  all  they  had  the  day 
before  to  Omar,  to  fill  an  order  from  Egypt.  The  next  month 
it  was  rice,  then  tobacco,  wax,  coffee,  sugar,  and  gold  dust. 
Every  thing  rose  in  value ;  but  Omar's  correspondents  were 
always  the  ones  that  profited  by  this  sudden  rise.  In  this 
manner  Djiddah  became  an  opulent  market,  so  wealthy,  in- 
deed, that  the  poor  could  no  longer  live  there,  though  the  rich 
acquired  fortunes  by  buying  the  good  graces  of  the  Egyptian. 

As  to  him,  seated  every  day  at  his  counter,  more  honeyed 
than  ever  to  those  of  whom  he  had  need,  he  passed  the  hours 
in  counting  on  his  beads  the  millions  of  piastres  that  he  accu- 
mulated in  all  directions.  He  said  to  himself  in  his  heart 
that,  despised  as  he  was,  he  was  the  master  of  men,  and  that, 
should  he  need  the  assistance  of  the  sultan,  he  was  rich  enough 
to  buy  him  and  his  seraglio  in  the  bargain. 

Men  do  not  grow  rich  with  impunity.  It  is  as  impossible 
to  hide  fortune  as  smoke.  Despite  all  his  humility,  Omar  re- 
ceived an  invitation  from  the  grand  sherif  of  Mecca  to  repair 
to  Taif  for  an  important  service,  which  he  alone,  it  was  said, 
could  render  the  descendant  of  the  Prophet.  The  merchant 
was  less  elated  by  the  honor  than  dismayed  at  the  service 
which  might  be  asked  of  him.  "  The  rich  have  two  kinds  of 
foes,"  said  he, "  the  small  and  the  great.  The  first  are  like 
the  ants,  that  empty  the  house  grain  by  grain ;  the  second  like 
the  lion,  the  king  of  robbers,  that  flays  us  with  one  stroke  of 
his  paw.  But,  with  patience  and  cunning,  it  is  easier  to  shake 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     255 

off  the  lion  than  the  ant.  Let  us  see  what  the  sherif  desires  ; 
if  he  wishes  to  deceive  me,  I  will  not  be  duped  by  him  ;  if  he 
wishes  to  be  paid,  he  shall  give  me  the  worth  of  the  money." 

It  was  with  this  respect  for  the  Commander  of  the  Faithful 
that  Omar  took  the  way  to  Taif.  The  sight  of  the  desert 
soon  changed  the  current  of  his  thoughts.  The  tents  and 
the  clumps  of  palm-trees  scattered  amid  the  sands  recalled  his 
childhood,  and  for  the  first  time  his  brother  Abdallah  recur- 
red to  his  memory.  "  Who  knows,"  he  thought,  "  whether  by 
chance  I  may  not  need  him  ?" 


VII. 

B  A  R  S  I  M. 

WHILE  the  son  of  Mansour  abandoned  himself  to  the  love 
of  gain  as  if  he  were  to  live  forever,  Abdallah  grew  in  piety, 
wisdom,  and  virtue.  He  had  adopted  his  father's  calling,  and 
guided  the  caravans  between  Yambo,  Medina,  and  Mecca. 
As  ardent  as  the  young  horse  that  flings  his  mane  to  the  wind, 
and  as  prudent  as  a  graybeard,  he  had  gained  the  confidence 
of  the  principal  merchants,  and,  despite  his  youth,  it  was  he 
that  was  recommended  by  preference  to  the  pilgrims  when 
they  thronged  from  all  parts  of  the  world  in  the  sacred  month 
to  march  seven  times  round  the  holy  Caaba,  encamp  on  Mount 
Arafat,  and  offer  sacrifices  in  the  valley  of  the  Mina.  These 
journeys  were  not  without  peril.  The  Bedouin  had  more 
than  once  risked  his  life  to  protect  those  under  his  keeping, 
but  he  had  fought  so  well  that  all  on  his  route  were  beginning 
to  respect  and  fear  him.  The  aged  Hafiz  never  quitted  his 
pupil ;  crippled  as  he  was,  he  always  found  means  to  be  use- 
ful. Wherever  there  are  men,  there  are  always  stout  arms 
and  resolute  hearts,  but  not  always  a  faithful  friend  and  wise 
counselor. 


256  Fairy  Book. 

This  life,  interspersed  with  repose  and  alarm,  peace  and 
danger,  was  delightful  to  the  son  of  Yusuf.  To  live  a  brave 
man,  and  die  like  a  soldier  in  case  of  need,  as  his  father  had 
done,  was  Abdallah's  sole  ambition.  His  wishes  went  no  far- 
ther. Nevertheless,  a  cloud  overshadowed  the  serenity  of  his 
soul.  Halima  had  told  him  of  the  dervish,  and  the  child  of 
the  desert  thought  continually  of  the  mysterious  plant  which 
had  the  gift  of  bestowing  happiness  and  virtue. 

Hafiz,  to  whom  Abdallah  first  opened  his  heart,  saw  in  this 
thought  nothing  but  a  wile  of  Satan.  "  What  is  the  use  of 
troubling  yourself?"  he  said.  "God  tells  us  how  to  please 
him  in  the  Koran ;  he  has  but  one  law ;  do  what  he  bids,  and 
have  no  farther  anxiety ;  our  business  is  only  with  the  pres- 
ent moment." 

These  words  failed  to  appease  the  curiosity  of  Abdallah. 
Hafiz  had  told  him  so  many  marvels  which  he  did  not  doubt, 
why  should  he  not  believe  the  story  of  this  talisman  to  be  true, 
and  why  might  not  one  of  the  faithful  discover  it  ?  "  We  dwell- 
ers among  the  tents  are  unlearned,"  thought  the  Bedouin  ; 
"  what  hinders  me  from  questioning  the  pilgrims  ?  God  has 
dispersed  the  truth  abroad  throughout  the  earth ;  who  knows 
whether  some  hadji  of  the  East  or  West  may  not  know  the 
secret  which  I  am  seeking  ?  The  dervish  did  not  answer  my 
mother  at  random  ;  and,  with  God's  help,  I  will  find  the  right 
path." 

A  short  time  after,  Abdallah  guided  to  Mecca  a  caravan  of 
pilgrims  from  Egypt.  At  the  head  of  the  troop  was  a  physi- 
cian who  talked  constantly,  laughed  without  ceasing,  and 
doubted  every  thing — a  Frank,  it  was  said,  who  had  abjured 
his  errors  to  enter  the  service  of  the  pacha.  Abdallah  re- 
solved to  question  him.  As  they  passed  a  meadow,  he  gath- 
ered a  sprig  of  clover  in  blossom,  and  presenting  it  to  the 
stranger,  "  Is  this  plant  known  in  your  country  ?"  said  he. 


Abdallak;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     257 

"  Certainly,"  answered  the  physician.  "  It  is  what  you  call 
barsim,  and  we  trifolium.  It  is  the  Alexandrian  trefoil,  family 
leguminosae,  calyx  tubular,  corolla  persistent,  petals  divided 
into  three  segments  or  foliolae,  and  sometimes  into  four  or 
even  five,  though  this  is  an  exception,  or,  as  we  say,  a  mon- 
strosity." 

"  Is  there  no  species  of  clover,  then,  in  your  country  that 
always  has  four  leaves  ?" 

"No,  my  young  scholar,  neither  in  my  country  nor  any 
where  else.  Why  do  you  ask  ?" 

Abdallah  gave  him  his  confidence,  whereupon  he  burst  out 
laughing.  "  My  child,"  said  he,  "  the  dervish  was  fooling 
your  mother.  She  asked  what  was  impossible  of  him,  and  he 
promised  her  what  was  impossible." 

"Why  should  not  God  create  a  four-leaved  clover  if  he 
wished  ?"  asked  the  Bedouin,  wounded  by  the  stranger's  dis- 
dainful smile. 

"  Why,  young  man  ?  Because  the  earth  produced  all  the 
plants  on  one  day  by  virtue  of  a  germinating  power  which  was 
then  exhausted.  Since  the  time  of  King  Solomon  there  has 
been  nothing  new  under  the  sun." 

"  And  if  God  wished  to  work  a  miracle,  is  His  power  ex- 
hausted ?"  said  Hafiz,  who  had  approached  the  travelers ;  "  He 
who  drew  the  seven  heavens  and  the  seven  earths  from  the 
smoke  in  the  space  of  two  days,  and  set  them  five  hundred 
days'  march  from  each  other — He  who  ordered  the  night  to 
envelop  the  day — He  who  planted  life  every  where,  could  He 
not  add  a  new  blade  of  grass  to  the  millions  of  plants  which 
he  has  created  for  the  food  and  pleasure  of  man  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  physician,  in  a  mocking  tone ;  "  I 
am  too  good  a  Mussulman  to  pretend  the  contrary.  God 
might  also  send  his  thunderbolt  to  light  my  pipe  that  has  just 
gone  out,  but  he  does  not  wish  to  do  it ;  on  the  contrary,  he 


258  Fairy  Book. 

wishes  me  to  ask  you  for  a  little  fire."  With  these  words  he 
began  to  puff  his  pipe  and  to  whistle  a  foreign  air. 

"  Accursed  be  unbelievers  !"  cried  the  cripple.  "  Come, 
my  son,  leave  this  miscreant,  whose  breath  is  death.  If  it  is 
in  punishment  for  our  sins  that  God  has  given  the  Franks  the 
knowledge  that  makes  their  power,  it  is  also  to  chastise  these 
dogs,  and  hurry  them  faster  toward  the  bottomless  pit.  Mad- 
men, who,  to  deny  God,  make  use  of  his  very  power,  and  the 
perpetual  miracle  of  his  goodness  !  Begone,  infidel !"  he  add- 
ed, raising  his  hand  to  heaven  as  if  to  call  down  its  thunders 
on  the  head  of  the  renegade  ;  "  begone,  ingrate,  who  turnest 
thy  back  upon  the  Lord  !  God  beholds  the  innermost  recesses 
of  thy  soul ;  thou  wilt  die  in  despair,  and  wilt  feed  forever  on 
the  tree  of  hell,  with  its  bitter  fruit  and  poisoned  thorns." 

At  the  other  end  of  the  caravan  walked  a  Persian,  with  a 
white  beard  and  a  tall  sheepskin  hat,  the  poorest  and  most 
aged  of  the  band,  as  well  as  the  most  despised,  for  he  was  of 
a  heretical  nation.  The  old  man  seemed  unconscious  of  his 
poverty,  age,  and  solitude.  He  spoke  to  no  one,  ate  little,  and 
smoked  all  day  long.  Perched  on  a  lean  camel,  he  passed 
his  whole  time  in  turning  in  his  fingers  the  ninety-nine  beads 
of  his  rosary,  lifting  his  trembling  head  meanwhile  toward 
heaven,  and  murmuring  mysterious  words.  The  poor  man's 
gentleness  and  piety  had  touched  Abclallah's  heart.  Too 
young  as  yet  to  know  hatred,  it  was  with  the  heretic  that  the 
son  of  Yusuf  sought  a  refuge  from  the  unbeliever. 

The  animated  face  and  sparkling  eyes  of  the  young  guide 
touched  the  heart  of  the  dervish,  who  welcomed  the  confi- 
dence that  he  divined  with  a  kindly  smile.  "  My  son,"  said 
he, "  God  give  thee  the  wit  of  Plato,  the  knowledge  of  Aris- 
totle, the  star  of  Alexander,  and  the  happiness  of  Cosroes !" 

"  My  father,  thou  speakest  well,"  cried  Abdallah ;  "  it  is 
knowledge  that  I  need ;  not  the  knowledge  of  a  heathen,  but 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     259 

that  of  a  true  Mussulman,  to  whom  faith  opens  the  treasure 
of  truth." 

"  Speak,  my  son,"  returned  the  old  man ;  "  perchance  I  can 
serve  thee.  Truth  is  like  the  pearl :  he  alone  possesses  it  who 
has  plunged  into  the  depths  of  life  and  torn  his  hands  on  the 
rocks  of  time.  What  thou  seekest  I  perhaps  have  found. 
Who  knows  whether  I  may  not  be  able  to  give  thee  the  light 
which  thou  enviest,  and  which  is  now  valueless  to  my  dim 
eyes  ?" 

Won  by  such  kindliness,  Abdallah  poured  out  his  soul  be- 
fore the  dervish,  who  listened  in  silence.  The  confidence 
ended,  the  old  man  for  his  sole  answer  drew  a  lock  of  white 
wool  from  the  mat  on  which  he  was  sitting,  and  cast  it  to  the 
wind  ;  then,  swaying  his  body  like  a  drunken  man,  and  fixing 
a  strange  gaze  on  Abdallah,  he  improvised  the  following  lines  : 

"  Tulip  with  dark  corolla,  charming  cypress, 
Young  man,  with  eyes  more  black  and  soft  than  night, 
Seest  thou  yon  white  speck  fluttering  in  the  breeze  ? 
Thus  pass  our  days — a  dream  that  soon  is  told  I 
The  desert  rain  less  speedily  dries  up, 
The  falling  rose  less  quickly  fades  away ; 
All  cheats  or  fails  us,  and  the  noblest  life 
Is  but  the  long  sigh  of  a  last  adieu. 

God  alone  is  true ;  God  alone  is  great ;  God  alone  is  God  1 
Would'st  thou,  my  child,  that  in  the  sacred  book 
Thy  guardian  angel  should  inscribe  thy  name  ? 
Flee  the  intoxicating  joys  of  sense. 
God  loves  a  heart  unsullied  by  the  world ; 
The  body  is  naught  but  a  sepulchre ; 
Happy  the  man  who  breaks  its  deadening  bonds, 
To  plunge  into  the  depths  of  boundless  love  ! 
To  live  in  God  is  death  ;  to  die  in  God  is  life  1" 

"  Thy  words  inflame  my  heart,"  said  Abdallah ;  "  but  thou 
dost  not  answer  me." 

"  What,  my  son  !"  cried  the  mystic,  "  dost  thou  not  under- 
stand me  ?  The  four-leaved  clover  does  not  exist  on  earth ; 
thou  must  seek  it  elsewhere.  The  four-leaved  clover  is  a  sym- 


260  Fairy  Book. 

bol — it  is  the  impossible,  the  ineffable,  the  infinite !  Wouldst 
thou  possess  it  ?  I  will  reveal  to  thee  the  secret.  Stifle  thy 
senses ;  become  blind,  mute,  and  deaf;  quit  the  city  of  exist- 
ence ;  be  like  a  traveler  in  the  kingdom  of  nothingness ;  plunge 
into  ecstatic  rapture ;  and  when  nothing  more  causes  your  heart 
to  beat,  when  you  have  encircled  your  brow  with  the  glorious 
crown  of  death,  then,  my  son,  thou  wilt  find  eternal  love,  and 
be  swallowed  up  in  it  like  a  drop  of  water  in  the  vast  ocean. 
This  is  life !  When  nothing  was  yet  in  being,  love  existed ; 
when  nothing  more  remains,  love  will  endure ;  it  is  the  first 
and  the  last ;  it  is  God  and  man ;  it  is  the  Creator  and  the  crea- 
ture ;  it  is  the  heights  above  and  the  depths  below ;  it  is  every 
thing." 

"  Old  man,"  said  the  Bedouin,  affrighted,  "  age  has  weaken- 
ed thy  reason ;  thou  dost  not  feel  that  thou  art  blaspheming. 
God  alone  existed  before  the  world  had  being,  God  alone  will 
remain  when  the  heavens  shall  have  crushed  the  earth  in  their 
fall.  He  is  the  first  and  the  last,  the  manifest  and  the  hid- 
den ;  he  is  mighty  and  wise ;  he  knoweth  all  things,  and  is 
able  to  do  all  things." 

The  old  man  did  not  hear ;  he  seemed  in  a  dream  ;  his  lips 
moved,  his  eyes  were  fixed  and  sightless ;  a  vision  carried  far 
from  the  earth  this  victim  of  the  delusions  of  Satan.  Abdal- 
lah  returned  mournfully  to  Hafiz  and  related  to  him  this  new 
disappointment. 

"  My  child,"  said  the  cripple,  "  flee  these  madmen  who  in- 
toxicate themselves  with  visions  like  others  with  opium  or 
hasheesh.  They  are  idolaters  who  worship  themselves.  Poor 
fools!  does  the  eye  create  the  light?  does  the  mind  of  man 
create  the  truth?  Woe  to  him  who  draws  from  his  brain  a 
world  lighter  and  more  hollow  than  a  bubble ;  woe  to  him 
who  sets  man  on  the  throne  of  God !  As  soon  as  he  enters 
the  city  of  dreams  he  is  lost ;  God  is  effaced,  faith  evaporates, 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     261 

the  will  becomes  lifeless,  and  the  soul  is  stifled ;  it  is  the  reign 
of  darkness  and  death." 


VIII. 

THE     JEW. 

YOUTH  is  the  season  of  hope  and  desire.  Despite  his  dis- 
comfiture, Abdallah  did  not  tire  of  questioning  the  pilgrims 
whom  he  guided  to  Mecca,  still  relying  on  a  happy  chance  ; 
but  Persia,  Syria,  Egypt,  Turkey,  and  India  were  mute ;  no 
one  had  heard  of  the  four-leaved  clover.  Hafiz  condemned  a 
curiosity  which  he  thought  guilty,  while  Halima  consoled  her 
son  by  making  him  believe  that  she  still  hoped  with  him. 

One  day,  when  Abdallah  had  retired  to  his  tent  more  mel- 
ancholy than  usual,  and  was  debating  in  his  own  mind  wheth- 
er he  would  not  do  well  to  quit  his  tribe  and  go  to  foreign 
lands  in  search  of  the  talisman  that  evaded  his  grasp,  a  Jew 
entered  the  inclosure  to  ask  hospitality.  He  was  a  little  old 
man,  dressed  in  rags,  so  thin  that  his  girdle  seemed  to  cut 
him  in  two.  Leaning  on  a  staff,  he  slowly  dragged  along  his 
feet,  wrapped  in  bloody  rags,  as  he  raised  his  head  from  time 
to  time,  and  looked  around  as  if  imploring  pity.  His  wrinkled 
brow,  his  inflamed  eyelids,  his  thin  lips,  which  scarcely  covered 
his  toothless  gums,  his  disordered  beard,  which  fell  to  his  waist, 
every  thing  about  him  bespoke  want  and  suffering.  The 
stranger  perceived  Abdallah,  and  stretched  out  his  trembling 
hand  to  him,  murmuring  in  a  weak  voice,  "  Oh,  master  of  the 
tent,  behold  a  guest  of  God  !" 

Wholly  absorbed  in  his  thoughts,  the  son  of  Yusuf  heard 
nothing.  The  old  man  had  already  thrice  repeated  his  prayer 
when,  unhappily,  he  turned  his  head  toward  a  neighboring  tent, 
where  a  negress  was  nursing  her  child.  At  the  sight  of  the 
Jew  the  woman  hid  her  babe  to  preserve  it  from  the  evil  eye, 


262  Fairy  Book. 

and,  rushing  from  her  tent,  cried,  "  Begone,  thou  wretch  wor- 
thy to  be  stoned  !  Hast  thou  come  here  to  bring  misfortune  ? 
May  as  many  curses  light  on  thee  as  there  are  hairs  in  thy 
beard !"  And,  calling  the  dogs,  she  set  them  on  the  wretched 
man,  who  tried  to  flee ;  but  his  foot  caught  in  his  robe  and  he 
fell,  uttering  lamentable  cries,  too  weak  to  drive  off  the  ene- 
mies that  were  tearing  him. 

His  shrieks  roused  Abdallah.  To  rush  to  the  Jew,  punish 
the  dogs,  and  threaten  the  slave  was  the  work  of  an  instant. 
He  picked  up  the  Jew,  took  him  in  his  arms,  and  carried  him 
into  the  tent;  a  moment  after  he  was  washing  his  feet  and 
hands,  and  binding  up  his  wounds,  while  Halima  brought  him 
dates  and  milk. 

"  I  bless  thee,  my  son,"  said  the  old  man,  in  tears.  "  The 
blessing  of  the  meanest  of  mankind  is  never  contemptible  in 
the  sight  of  the  Lord.  May  God  remove  far  from  thee  jeal- 
ousy, sadness,  and  pride,  and  grant  thee  wisdom,  patience,  and 
peace,  the  gifts  that  he  has  promised  to  the  generous  of  heart 
like  thee !" 

At  evening,  Hafiz,  Abdallah,  and  the  Jew  talked  long  to- 
gether round  their  frugal  repast,  although  the  cripple  could 
not  conceal  his  repugnance  to  the  son  of  Israel.  Abdallah, 
on  the  contrary,  listened  to  the  old  man  with  interest,  for 
the  stranger  was  a  great  traveler,  and  told  them  of  his  jour- 
neyings.  He  was  acquainted  with  Muscat,  Hindostan,  and 
Persia ;  he  had  visited  the  country  of  the  Franks  and  cross* 
ed  the  deserts  of  Africa ;  he  had  now  come  from  Egypt 
through  Soudan,  and  was  returning  to  Jerusalem  by  the  way 
of  Syria. 

"  But  the  object  of  my  search  is  not  wealth,  my  dear  host." 
said  the  Jew ;  "  more  than  once  have  I  seen  it  on  the  road- 
side and  passed  it  by.  Poverty  befits  the  children  of  Abra- 
ham, say  our  sages,  as  do  scarlet  trappings  the  snow-white 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     263 

steed.  What  I  have  pursued  for  half  a  century  over  deserts 
and  seas,  through  fatigue  and  misery,  is  the  Word  of  God,  the 
sacred  tradition.  That  unwritten  word,  which  God  gave  to 
Moses  on  Mount  Sinai,  was  confided  by  Moses  to  the  keep- 
ing of  Joshua ;  Joshua  transmitted  it  to  the  seventy  elders, 
the  elders  to  the  prophets,  and  the  prophets  to  the  synagogue. 
After  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  our  masters  collected  it  in 
the  Talmud,  but  how  far  were  they  from  possessing  it  entire ! 
To  punish  the  sins  of  our  fathers,  God  broke  asunder  the 
truth,  and  scattered  the  fragments  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven. 
Happy  is  he  who  can  gather  together  these  dispersed  shreds 
— happy  is  he  who  can  discover  a  ray  of  the  divine  splendor ! 
The  children  of  the  age  may  despise  and  hate  him ;  their  in- 
sults are  to  his  soul  like  the  rain  to  the  earth :  in  bursting  it 
asunder,  they  purify  and  refresh  it." 

"And  are  you  this  man,  my  father?"  said  Abdallah,  so 
deeply  moved  by  the  words  of  his  guest  that  he  quite  forgot 
that  he  was  talking  with  an  infidel.  "  Have  you  discovered 
this  treasure  ?  Do  you  possess  the  whole  truth  ?" 

"  I  am  but  a  worm  of  the  earth,"  replied  the  Jew ;  "  but 
from  my  childhood  up  I  have  questioned  the  masters,  and  en- 
treated them  to  repeat  to  me  the  secrets  of  the  law ;  I  have 
sought  in  the  Cabala  for  the  wealth  that  is  thought  valueless 
in  the  marts  of  the  world,  and  I  have  endeavored  to  de- 
cipher that  language  of  numbers  which  is  the  key  to  all  truth. 
How  far  I  have  succeeded  God  alone  can  judge ;  to  Him  be 
the  praise  !  One  thing  is  certain,  namely,  that  the  angel  Raz- 
riel  initiated  Adam  into  the  mysteries  of  the  creation ;  and 
who  dare  say  that  this  revelation  is  lost  ?  If  there  lives  a 
man  who  has  lifted  a  corner  of  the  veil,  he  has  nothing  more 
to  hope  or  fear  on  earth ;  he  has  had  his  day,  and  is  ready  for 
death." 

"  My  father,"  asked  the  young  Bedouin,  trembling,  "  has 


264  Fairy  Book. 

your  science  told  you  of  a  sacred  plant  which  at  once  bestows 
virtue  and  happiness  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  old  man,  smiling ;  "  it  is  treated 
of  in  the  Zohar,  with  many  other  marvels." 

"  It  is  the  four-leaved  clover,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  Perchance,"  returned  the  Jew,  with  a  frown ;  "  but  how 
did  this  name  reach  your  ears  ?" 

When  the  son  of  Yusuf  had  finished  his  story,  the  old  man 
gazed  at  him  tenderly.  "  My  son,"  said  he,  "  the  poor  often 
repay  hospitality  better  than  the  rich,  for  God  himself  holds 
the  purse-strings.  The  secret  which  thou  art  seeking  I  long 
ago  discovered  in  the  recesses  of  Persia ;  and,  since  God  has 
led  my  steps  to  thy  tent,  it  is  doubtless  because  he  has  chosen 
me  to  bring  thee  the  truth.  Listen,  therefore,  and  let  what  I 
am  about  to  tell  thee  be  engraven  on  thy  heart." 

Hafiz  and  Abdallah  drew  near  the  old  man,  who  related 
the  following  tale  in  a  low  and  mysterious  voice  : 

"You  know  that  when  God  drove  our  first  father  Adam 
from  Paradise,  he  permitted  him  to  carry  with  him  upon  earth 
the  date-tree  to  serve  as  his  nourishment,  and  the  camel, 
which  was  moulded  of  the  same  clay  as  himself,  and  which 
could  not  exist  without  him." 

"  That  is  true,"  exclaimed  the  cripple.  ''  When  my  young 
camels  come  into  the  world,  they  would  die  of  hunger  if  I  did 
not  hold  their  head  to  their  mother's  breast ;  the  camel  is 
made  for  us  as  we  are  for  the  camel." 

"When  the  flaming  sword  drove  the  first  criminals  before 
it,  Adam  cast  a  look  of  despair  at  the  abode  which  he  was 
forced  to  forsake,  and,  to  carry  with  him  a  last  memento,  broke 
off  a  branch  of  myrtle.  The  angel  let  him  alone ;  he  remem- 
bered that  by  God's  command  he  had  formerly  worshiped  the 
mortal  whom  now  he  pitied." 

"  True !"  said  Hafiz.     "  It  was  the  same  branch  of  myrtle 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     265 

that  Shoaib  long  after  gave  to  his  son-in-law  Moses ;  it  was 
the  staff  with  which  the  prophet  tended  his  flocks,  and  with 
which  he  afterward  wrought  his  miracles  in  Egypt." 

"Eve  also  paused  in  tears  before  those  flowers  and  trees 
which  she  had  loved  so  well ;  but  the  sword  was  pitiless,  and 
she  was  forced  to  proceed.  Just  as  she  was  about  to  go  out, 
she  hastily  snatched  one  of  the  plants  of  Paradise.  The  an- 
gel shut  his  eyes  as  he  had  done  with  Adam.  What  the  plant 
was  Eve  knew  not ;  she  had  clutched  it  in  her  flight,  and  had 
instantly  closed  her  hand.  She  would  have  been  wise  had 
she  carried  it  away  in  the  same  manner ;  but  curiosity  once 
more  prevailed  over  prudence,  and,  before  crossing  the  fatal 
threshold,  our  mother  opened  her  hand  to  see  what  she  had 
gathered.  It  was  the  four-leaved  clover,  the  most  brilliant 
of  all  the  flowers  of  Paradise.  One  leaf  was  red  like  copper, 
another  white  like  silver,  the  third  yellow  like  gold,  and  the 
fourth  glittering  like  diamond.  Eve  paused  to  look  at  her 
treasure,  when  the  fiery  sword  touched  her ;  she  started,  her 
hand  trembled,  and  the  diamond  leaf  fell  within  the  gates  of 
Paradise,  while  the  other  three  leaves,  swept  away  by  the 
wind,  were  scattered  over  the  earth ;  where  they  fell,  God 
alone  knows." 

"  What !"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  "  have  they  never  since 
been  seen  ?" 

"  Not  that  I  know  of;  and  it  is  even  possible  that  the  story 
is  only  an  allegory,  concealing  some  profound  truth." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Abdallah,  "  that  is  not  so.  Tiy  to  remem- 
ber, my  father  ;  perchance  you  will  recall  something  more.  I 
must  have  this  plant  at  any  price ;  I  wish  it,  and,  with  God's 
aid,  I  will  have  it." 

The  old  man  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  long  re- 
mained absorbed  in  contemplation.  Abdallah  and  Hafiz 
scarcely  dared  breathe  for  fear  of  disturbing  his  revery. 

M 


266  Fairy  Book. 

"My  efforts  are  in  vain;  I  can  recall  nothing  to  memory," 
said  he,  at  last ;  "  perhaps  my  book  will  give  me  some  inform- 
ation." He  took  from  his  girdle  a  yellow  manuscript  volume, 
with  a  black,  greasy  cover,  turned  the  pages  slowly,  carefully 
examined  the  squares,  circles,  and  alphabets  mixed  with  fig- 
ures, beginning  some  with  aleph  and  others  with  thau,  the  last 
letter  of  the  Hebrew  alphabet.  "  Here  are  four  lines  which 
are  repeated  in  Soudan,  and  which  may  interest  you,"  said  he, 
at  last,  "  but  their  meaning  escapes  me  : 

"  '  There  is  a  mysterious  herb 

That  grows  hidden  from  human  eyes ; 
Seek  it  not  upon  earth, 

'Twill  be  found  above  in  the  skies.' 

"  Patience,  patience,"  he  added,  seeing  Abdallah's  emotion, 
"  the  words  have  more  than  one  meaning ;  the  ignorant  seek 
to  fish  up  truth  from  the  surface,  the  wise  pursue  it  to  the  re- 
motest depths,  where  they  attain  it,  thanks  to  the  most  power- 
ful of  instruments,  the  sacred  decade  of  the  Sephiroth.  Do 
you  not  remember  the  saying  of  one  of  our  masters,  the  Rab- 
bi Halaphta,  the  son  of  Dozza  ? 

"  '  Seek  not  heaven  in  yonder  azure  depths, 

Where  glows  the  burning  sun  and  pales  the  moon  ; 
For  heaven,  my  son,  lies  hid  in  thine  own  soul, 
And  Paradise  is  naught  but  a  pure  heart.' 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  raising  his  voice,  "  I  discern  a  light  that 
guides  me.  Since  God  has  permitted  us  to  meet,  he  has 
doubtless  decreed  that  you  shall  find  what  you  desire ;  but 
beware  of  outstripping  his  will  by  a  vain  and  guilty  curiosity. 
Follow  his  law,  execute  his  commands,  create  a  heaven  in 
your  soul,  and  some  day,  perchance,  when  you  least  expect  it, 
you  will  find  the  desired  reward.  This,  at  least,  is  all  that  my 
science  can  tell  you." 

"  Well  spoken,  old  man,"  said  Hafiz,  laying  his  hand  on 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     267 

Abdallah's  shoulder.     "  Nephew,"  he  added,  "  God  is  master 
of  the  hour;  wait  and  obey." 


IX. 

THE   WELL   OF   ZOBEYDE. 

THE  night  was  a  sweet  one  to  Abdallah.  He  saw  the  mys> 
terious  plant  more  than  once  in  his  dreams,  and,  as  soon  as 
he  awakened,  he  sought  to  retain  the  friend  who  had  given 
him  hope,  but  the  Jew  obstinately  refused  his  entreaty. 

"  No,  my  son,"  said  he,  "  one  night  in  thy  tent  is  enough. 
The  first  day  a  man  is  a  guest,  the  second  a  burden,  the  third 
a  pest.  Thou  hast  nothing  more  to  tell  me,  and  I  have  noth- 
ing more  to  teach  thee  ;  it  is  time  for  us  to  part.  Let  me 
thank  thee  once  more,  and  pray  God  in  thy  behalf.  If  we 
have  no  longer  the  same  keblah,*  at  least  we  are  both  the 
children  of  Abraham,  and  both  worship  the  same  God." 

The  only  favor  that  Abdallah  could  obtain  was  for  the  Jew 
to  mount  a  camel,  and  permit  his  two  friends  to  accompany 
him  a  day's  journey  on  his  way.  Hafiz  had  taken  a  fancy  to 
the  stranger,  and  Abdallah  hoped  to  gain  some  new  light  on 
the  subject  nearest  his  heart;  but  the  sight  of  the  desert 
awakened  new  ideas  in  the  old  man's  mind,  and  he  thought 
no  more  of  the  stories  of  the  past  night. 

"  If  I  am  not  mistaken,"  said  he  to  Hafiz,  "  we  shall  find 
on  our  way  the  well  dug  in  olden  times  by  the  Sultan  Zobeyde 
in  his  pilgrimage  to  Mecca." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  cripple,  "  it  is  Haroun  Al-Raschid's  mon- 
ument in  our  country.  To  the  calif  and  his  pious  wife  we 
owe  our  finest  gardens." 

"  A  glorious  monument,"  exclaimed  the  Jew,  "  and  one  that 

*  The  point  of  the  horizon  toward  which  men  turn  their  faces  in  prayer ;  the  Moham- 
medans turn  toward  Mecca,  the  Jews  toward  Jerusalem. 


268  Fairy  Book. 

will  endure  when  what  men  call  glory,  that  is,  blood  uselessly 
shed  and  money  foolishly  spent,  shall  be  forgotten." 

"  Spoken  like  one  of  the  children  of  Israel,"  rejoined  Hafiz. 
"You  are  a  shop-keeping  people.  A  Bedouin  reasons  in  a 
different  fashion.  War  to  him  is  the  best  thing  of  all  that 
earth  affords.  He  who  has  not  looked  death  in  the  face 
knows  not  whether  he  is  a  man.  It  is  noble  to  strike  with 
the  front  to  the  foe ;  it  is  glorious  to  overthrow  an  enemy  and 
avenge  those  we  love.  Are  you  not  of  the  same  mind,  my 
nephew  ?" 

"  You  are  right,  my  uncle  j  but  battle  is  not  pleasure  with- 
out alloy.  I  remember  the  time  when,  closely  pressed  by  a 
Bedouin  who  held  a  pistol  to  my  head,  I  plunged  my  sword 
into  his  breast.  He  fell ;  my  joy  was  extreme,  but  it  was  of 
short  duration.  As  I  looked  on  his  dim  eyes,  and  his  lips 
covered  with  the  foam  of  death,  I  thought  in  spite  of  myself 
that  he  had  a  mother  who,  however  proud  she  might  be  of 
having  given  birth  to  a  brave  man,  must  thenceforth  remain 
lonely  and  desolate,  as  my  mother  would  have  been  had  her 
son  been  killed  instead.  And  this  man  was  a  Mussulman — 
that  is,  a  brother !  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  added  the  young 
man,  turning  to  the  Jew.  "  War  doubtless  is  noble ;  but  to 
fight  the  desert,  like  the  calif,  and  force  the  wilderness  to 
give  way  before  fertility  and  abundance — this  is  great  indeed ! 
Happy  they  who  lived  in  the  days  of  Zobeyde  the  Good !" 

"  Why  not  imitate  those  you  admire  ?"  asked  the  old  man 
in  a  low  tone,  as  if  wishing  to  be  heard  by  Abdallah  alone. 

"  Explain  yourself,"  said  the  Bedouin  j  "  I  do  not  under- 
stand you." 

"  Nor  I  neither,"  said  the  cripple. 

"  It  is  because  the  eyes  of  youth  are  not  yet  open,  and  those 
of  old  age  are  blinded  by  habit.  Why  is  this  clump  of  acacias 
in  this  spot,  when  all  around  it  is  barren  ?  Why  do  these 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     269 

sheep  browse  on  grass  which  is  almost  green  here  when  the 
sands  of  the  desert  have  dominion  every  where  else  ?  Why 
do  these  birds  flutter  in  and  out  among  the  sheep,  and  pick 
up  the  still  sprouting  earth  with  their  beaks  ?  You  see  this 
daily,  and  because  you  see  it  daily  you  do  not  reflect  on  it. 
Men  are  made  thus ,  they  would  admire  the  sun  did  it  not 
return  every  morning." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Abdallah,  thoughtfully  :  "  there  is  wa- 
ter in  this  spot ;  perhaps  one  of  the  wells  formerly  dug  by  the 
calif." 

"  How  can  you  be  certain  ?"  asked  Hafiz. 

"  You  would  not  ask  the  question,"  returned  the  Jew, "  if, 
like  me,  you  had  grown  old  on  the  Talmud.  Hearken  to  the 
words  of  one  of  our  masters,  and  know  that  all  knowledge  is 
contained  in  our  law.  '  The  words  of  the  law  before  the  com- 
ing of  Solomon  were  like  unto  a  well,  whose  cool  water  lies 
far  below  the  surface  of  the  earth,  so  that  none  can  drink 
thereof.  Seeing  this,  the  wise  man  fastens  one  rope  to  an- 
other and  one  thread  to  another,  then  draws  and  drinks.  It 
was  thus  that  Solomon  passed  from  allegory  to  allegory,  and 
from  speech  to  speech,  till  he  had  fathomed  the  words  of  the 
law.' " 

"Whoever  finds  this  spring  will  find  a  treasure,"  said  the 
shepherd.  "  Stay  with  us,  stranger,  and  we  will  seek  it  to- 
gether :  you  shall  aid  us  with  your  science,  and  we  will  share 
with  you." 

"  No,"  replied  the  Jew.  "  He  who  weds  Science  weds  pov- 
erty. I  have  lived  too  happily  for  half  a  century  with  Study  to 
be  divorced  from  her  now.  Wealth  is  an  imperious  mistress  ; 
she  requires  the  whole  heart  and  life  of  man.  Leave  her  to 
the  young." 

The  sun  was  going  down  on  the  horizon.  The  old  man 
dismounted  from  his  camel  and  thanked  his  two  companions, 


270  Fairy  Book. 

whom  he  tenderly  embraced,  insisting  that  they  should  go  no 
farther.  "  Be  not  concerned  about  me,"  he  said ;  "  he  has 
nothing  to  fear  who  has  poverty  for  his  baggage,  old  age  for 
his  escort,  and  God  for  his  companion."  And,  waving  his 
hand  for  the  last  time,  he  resolutely  plunged  into  the  desert. 


X. 

THE   COPPER   LEAF. 

IT  was  not  a  difficult  matter  to  purchase  the  spot  of  ground 
where  the  piercing  eye  of  the  pilgrim  had  divined  a  spring ;  a 
few  feddans*  of  half-barren  sand  are  of  little  value  in  the  des- 
ert, and  twenty  douros  that  Halima  had  formerly  received 
from  Mansour,  and  had  kept  carefully  in  an  old  vase,  sufficed 
to  crown  Abdallah's  wishes.  Hafiz,  who  was  always  prudent, 
gave  out  that  he  intended  to  build  there  a  shelter  for  his  flock, 
and  immediately  set  to  work  to  bring  sufficient  boughs  thither 
to  conceal  from  all  eyes  the  mysterious  work  about  to  be  un- 
dertaken. 

Wherever  there  are  women  and  children  there  are  curiosity 
and  gossip.  It  was  soon  a  common  rumor  among  the  tribe 
that  Hafiz  and  his  nephew  passed  the  nights  in  digging  for 
treasure ;  and  when,  at  nightfall,  as  the  shepherds  led  their 
flocks  to  water,  they  spied  the  two  friends  covered  with  sand, 
they  did  not  spare  their  taunts  and  jeers.  "What  is  that?" 
they  asked  ;  "jackals  hiding  in  their  den,- dervishes  hollowing 
out  their  cell,  or  old  men  building  their  tomb  ?"  "  No,"  was 
the  answer,  "  magicians  digging  a  path  to  the  bottomless  pit" 
"  Let  them  be  patient,"  cried  others  ;  "  they  will  find  their  way 
there  only  too  soon."  And  the  laughter  and  ridicule  went  on  : 
no  bit  has  yet  been  found  to  curb  the  mouth  of  the  envious 
and  ignorant. 

*  The  feddan  is  a  little  less  than  our  acre. 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     271 

Abdallah  and  his  uncle  continued  to  dig  with  ardor  for 
more  than  a  month  with  but  little  progress  j  the  sand  caved 
in,  and  the  night  destroyed  the  labor  of  the  day.  Halima  was 
the  first  to  lose  patience.  She  accused  her  brother  of  having 
yielded  too  easily  to  the  folly  of  a  child.  By  degrees  Hafiz 
grew  discouraged,  acknowledged  the  justice  of  his  sister's  re- 
proaches, and  abandoned  the  undertaking.  "  God  has  pun- 
ished me  for  my  weakness,"  said  he.  "  It  was  a  great  mistake 
to  listen  to  the  wretched  impostor  who  amused  himself  with 
our  credulity.  Could  any.  thing  else  have  been  expected  from 
those  eternal  foes  of  the  Prophet  and  the  truth  ?" 

Abdallah,  left  alone,  did  not  suffer  himself  to  be  cast  down 
by  misfortune.  "  God  is  my  witness,"  he  repeated,  "  that  I  am 
laboring  for  my  people,  and  not  for  myself  alone.  If  I  fail, 
what  matters  my  pains  ?  if  I  succeed,  what  matters  the  time  ?" 
He  passed  another  whole  month  in  propping  up  the  inside  of 
the  well  with  wood,  and,  having  secured  his  work,  began  to  dig 
anew. 

On  the  fifteenth  day  of  the  third  month,  Hafiz,  urged  by 
Halima,  determined  to  make  a  last  effort  with  that  headstrong 
nephew  who  continued  to  cherish  a  foolish  hope  after  his 
uncle  had  set  him  the  example  of  wisdom  and  resignation. 
To  preach  to  Abdallah  was  not  an  easy  task ;  the  well  was 
already  thirty  cubits  deep,  and  the  workman  was  at  the  bot- 
tom. Hafiz  threw  himself  on  the  ground,  and,  putting  his 
mouth  to  the  edge  of  the  hole,  shouted,  "  You  headstrong 
child,  more  stubborn  than  a  mule,  have  you  sworn  to  bury 
yourself  in  this  accursed  well  ?" 

"  Since  you  are  there,  uncle,"  answered  Abdallah,  in  a  voice 
which  seemed  to  come  from  the  bottomless  pit,  "  will  you  be 
kind  enough  to  draw  up  the  pannier  and  empty  it,  to  save 
time  ?" 

"  Unhappy  boy,"  cried  Hafiz,  in  a  tone  more  of  anger  than 


272  Fairy  Book. 

pity,  "have  you  forgotten  the  lessons  which  I  gave  you  in 
your  childhood  ?  Have  you  so  little  respect  for  your  mother 
and  me  that  you  persist  in  afflicting  us  ?  Have  you  forgotten 
the  beautiful  saying  of  the  Koran, '  Whoso  is  preserved  from 
the  covetousness  of  his  own  soul,  he  shall  surely  prosper  ?' 
Do  you  think — " 

"Father!  father!"  cried  Abdallah,  "I  feel  moisture;  the 
water  is  coming ;  I  hear  it.  Help !  draw  up  the  pannier,  or  I 
am  lost." 

Hafiz  sprang  to  the  rope,  and  well  it  was  for  him  that  he 
did  so,  for,  despite  all  his  haste,  he  brought  up  his  nephew 
covered  with  mud,  senseless,  and  half  drowned.  The  water 
was  rushing  and  boiling  up  in  the  well.  Abdallah  soon  came 
to  himself,  and  listened  with  delight  to  the  rushing  of  the 
water ;  his  heart  beat  violently,  and  Hafiz's  eyes  filled  with 
tears.  Suddenly  the  noise  ceased.  Hafiz  lighted  a  handful 
of  dry  grass  and  threw  it  into  the  well,  and,  less  than  ten 
paces  from  the  surface,  he  saw  the  water,  smooth  and  glitter- 
ing as  steel.  To  lower  a  jug  and  draw  it  up  again  was  the 
work  of  an  instant.  The  water  was  sweet.  Abdallah  fell  on 
his  knees  and  bowed  his  head  to  the  earth.  His  uncle  fol- 
lowed his  example,  then  rose,  embraced  his  nephew,  and  en- 
treated his  pardon. 

Within  an  hour,  despite  the  heat  of  the  day,  the  two  Bed- 
ouins had  fixed  a  windlass  by  the  side  of  the  spring,  furnish- 
ed with  earthen  buckets  and  turned  by  two  oxen,  and  the 
groaning  sakiah  poured  the  water  upon  the  yellow  grass,  and 
restored  to  the  earth  the  freshness  of  spring. 

At  nightfall,  instead  of  going  to  the  watering-place,  the  shep- 
herds stopped  with  their  flocks  at  the  spring,  and  the  scoffers 
of  the  night  before  glorified  Abdallah.  "  We  foresaw  it,"  said 
the  elders.  "  Happy  the  mother  of  such  a  son  !"  exclaimed 
the  matrons.  "  Happy  the  wife  of  such  a  brave  and  hand 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     273 

some  youth  !"  thought  the  maidens.  And  all  added,  "  Blessed 
be  the  servant  of  God  and  his  children's  children  I" 

When  the  tribe  was  assembled  together,  the  son  of  Yusuf 
filled  a  jug  with  water  as  cool  as  that  of  the  well  of  Zem- 
zem,*  and,  resting  it  on  his  arm,  offered  it  first  to  his  mother, 
and  then  to  each  of  the  others  in  turn.  He  himself  was  the 
last  to  drink.  As  he  lifted  the  vessel  to  drain  it  to  the  bot- 
tom he  felt  something  cold  strike  his  lips.  It  was  a  bit  of 
metal  that  had  been  swept  along  by  the  spring. 

"  What  is  this,  my  uncle  ?"  asked  he  of  Hafiz.  "  Does  cop- 
per thus  lie  hidden  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  ?" 

"  Oh,  my  son,  preserve  it ;  it  is  the  choicest  of  treasures," 
cried  the  old  man.  "  God  has  sent  you  the  reward  of  your 
courage  and  labor.  Do  you  not  see  that  it  is  a  clover  leaf? 
The  earth  itself  has  opened  to  bring  you  from  its  depths  this 
flower  of  Paradise.  All  that  the  honest  son  of  Israel  told  us 
is  true.  Hope,  my  child,  hope  !  Praise  God  the  Only,  the 
Incomparable,  and  the  All-powerful !  He  alone  is  great  1" 

XI. 

THE  GARDENS  OF   IREM. 

VERDANT  gardens  watered  by  living  springs,  branches  laden 
with  fruit,  palm-trees,  pomegranates,  eternal  shade — such  is 
the  paradise  which  the  Book  of  Truth  promises  the  faithful. 
Abdallah  received  a  foretaste  of  this  paradise  on  earth.  His 
garden  in  a  few  years  was  the  most  beautiful  spot  imaginable 
— a  shady  and  peaceful  retreat,  the  delight  of  the  eye  and  the 
heart.  White  clematis  twined  round  the  acacias  and  olive- 
trees,  hedges  of  myrtle  surrounded  the  dourah,  barley,  and 
melon-beds  with  perpetual  verdure,  and  the  cool  water,  flow- 

*  A  sacred  well  within  the  walls  of  the  temple  at  Mecca ;  the  same,  according  to  tra- 
dition, which  gushed  forth  in  the  desert  at  the  command  of  the  angel  to  quench  the 
thirst  of  Hagar  and  Ishmael. 

M   2 


274  Fairy  Book. 

ing  through  numerous  trenches,  bathed  the  foot  of  the  young 
orange-trees.  Grapes,  bananas,  apricots,  and  pomegranates 
abounded  in  their  season,  and  flowers  blossomed  all  the  year 
round.  In  this  happy  abode,  where  sadness  never  came,  the 
rose,  the  jasmine,  the  mint,  the  gray-eyed  narcissus,  and  the 
wormwood  with  its  azure  blossoms,  seemed  to  smile  on  the 
passer-by,  and  delighted  him  with  their  gentle  fragrance  when 
his  eye  was  weary  of  admiring  their  beauty.  What  thicket 
escapes  the  piercing  eye  of  the  bird  ?  These  friends  of  the 
fruits  and  flowers  hastened  thither  from  every  quarter  of  the 
horizon.  One  would  have  said  that  they  knew  the  hand  that 
fed  them.  In  the  morning,  when  Abdallah  quitted  his  tent 
to  spread  the  carpet  of  prayer  on  the  dew-bespangled  grass, 
the  sparrows  welcomed  him  with  joyful  cries,  the  turtle-doves 
cooed  more  tenderly  than  ever  from  under  the  broad  fig- 
leaves,  the  bees  alighted  on  his  head,  and  the  butterflies  flut- 
tered around  him ;  flowers,  birds,  humming  insects,  and  mur- 
muring waters,  all  things  living  seemed  to  render  him  thanks, 
all  lifted  up  Abdallah's  soul  toward  Him  who  had  given  him 
peace  and  plenty. 

It  was  not  for  himself  that  the  son  of  Yusuf  had  desired 
the  wealth  which  he  shared  with  his  friends.  He  dug  a  deep 
basin  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden  into  which  the  water  flowed 
and  remained  cool  during  the  summer  droughts.  The  birds, 
fluttering  about  it,  attracted  the  caravans  from  afar.  "  What 
water  is  that  ?"  said  the  camel-drivers.  "  During  all  the  years 
that  we  have  traveled  over  the  desert  we  have  never  seen  this 
cistern.  Have  we  mistaken  our  road  ?  We  filled  our  skins 
for  seven  days,  and  here  we  find  water  on  the  third  day's 
march  ?  Are  these  the  gardens  of  Irem*  which  we  are  per- 

*  Sheddad,  the  king  of  Ad,  having  heard  of  Paradise  and  its  delights,  undertook  to 
build  a  palace  and  garden  which  should  rival  it  in  magnificence.  A  terrible  voice  from 
heaven  destroyed  this  monument  of  pride,  or,  rather,  rendered  it  invisible,  for  a  certain 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.    275 

mitted  to  behold  ?  Has  God  forgiven  the  presumptuous  mon- 
arch who  undertook  to  create  a  paradise  in  the  midst  of  the 
desert  ?"  "  No,"  answered  Halima,  "  these  are  not  the  gar- 
dens of  Irem.  What  you  behold  is  the  work  of  labor  and 
prayer.  God  has  blessed  my  son  Abdallah."  And  the  well 
was  called  the  Well  of  the  Benediction. 


XII. 

THE   TWO   BROTHERS. 

THREE  things  are  the  delight  of  the  eye,  says  the  proverb 
— running  water,  verdure,  and  beauty.  Halima  felt  what  was 
lacking  in  this  well-watered  and  verdant  garden.  Again  and 
again  she  repeated  to  her  son  that  a  man  should  not  suffer 
his  father's  name  to  perish,  but  Abdallah  turned  a  deaf  ear  to 
her.  He  had  no  thought  of  marriage ;  his  mind  was  else- 
where. He  looked  continually  at  the  tiny  copper  leaf,  and 
continually  asked  himself  by  what  deed  of  valor  or  goodness 
he  could  please  God  and  obtain  the  only  boon  that  he  de- 
sired. Man's  heart  has  not  room  for  two  passions  at  the 
same  time. 

One  evening,  when  old  Hafiz  had  visited  his  sister,  and  was 
using  all  his  eloquence  to  persuade  this  wild  colt  to  submit  to 
the  bridle,  a  gun  fired  at  a  distance  announced  the  arrival  of 
a  caravan.  Abdallah  rose  instantly  to  meet  the  strangers, 
leaving  Halima  in  despair  and  poor  Hafiz  confounded.  He 
soon  returned,  bringing  with  him  a  man  still  in  his  youth,  but 
already  fat  and  corpulent.  The  stranger  bowed  to  Hafiz  and 
Halima,  gazed  at  them  earnestly,  then,  fixing  his  small  eyes 
on  the  Bedouin,  "  Is  not  this  the  tribe  of  the  Beni  Amurs,"  he 

Ibn  Kelabah  pretended  to  have  seen  them  during  the  reign  of  the  Calif  Moyawiah. 
The  gardens  of  Irem  are  as  celebrated  among  the  Arabs  as  the  Tower  of  Babel  among 
the  Hebrews. 


276  Fairy  Book. 

asked,  "  and  am  I  not  in  the  tent  of  Abdallah,  the  son  of 
Yusuf?" 

"  It  is  Abdallah  that  has  the  honor  of  welcoming  you,"  an- 
swered the  young  man ;  "  all  that  is  here  belongs  to  your 
lordship." 

"  What !"  cried  the  new-comer,  "  have  ten  years'  absence  so 
changed  me  that  I  am  a  stranger  in  this  dwelling?  Has 
Abdallah  forgotten  his  brother?  Has  my  mother  but  one 
son?" 

The  meeting  was  a  joyful  one  after  so  long  a  separation. 
Abdallah  embraced  Omar  again  and  again,  and  Halima  kissed 
first  one  and  then  the  other,  while  Hafiz  whispered  to  himself 
that  man  is  a  wicked  animal.  To  suspect  the  son  of  Man- 
sour  of  ingratitude  was  a  crime,  but  how  often  had  this  crime 
been  committed  by  the  old  shepherd. 

The  repast  finished  and  the  pipes  brought,  Omar  took  up 
the  conversation.  "  How  delighted  I  am  to  see  you,"  said  he, 
tenderly  clasping  his  brother's  hand, "  and  the  more  so  that  I 
come  to  do  you  a  service." 

"  Speak,  brother !"  said  the  son  of  Yusuf.  "  Having  noth- 
ing to  hope  or  fear  except  from  God,  I  know  not  what  service 
you  can  render  me ;  but  danger  often  draws  near  us  without 
our  knowledge,  and  nothing  is  quicker  than  the  eye  of  a 
friend." 

"  It  is  not  danger,  but  fortune  that  is  in  question,"  returned 
the  son  of  Mansour.  "  Behold  what  brought  me  hither.  I 
come  from  Taif,  whither  I  had  been  summoned  by  the  grand 
sherif.  '  Omar,'  said  he  to  me, '  I  know  you  to  be  the  rich- 
est and  most  prudent  merchant  of  Djiddah ;  you  are  known 
throughout  the  desert,  where  there  is  not  a  tribe  that  does  not 
respect  your  name,  or  is  not  ready,  at  the  sight  of  your  signet, 
to  furnish  camels  to  transport  your  merchandise,  or  brave 
men  to  defend  it.  For  this  reason,  I  have  conceived  a  high 


Abdallak;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     277 

esteem  for  you,  and  it  is  to  give  you  a  proof  of  it  that  I  have 
summoned  you  hither.' 

"  I  bowed  respectfully  and  awaited  the  pleasure  of  the 
sherif,  who  stroked  his  beard  a  long  time  before  proceeding. 
*  The  Pacha  of  Egypt,'  said  he  at  last,  in  a  hesitating  manner 
— '  the  Pacha  of  Egypt,  who  prizes  my  friendship  as  I  prize 
his,  has  sent  me  a  slave  who  will  be  the  gem  of  my  harem, 
and  whom,  through  respect  for  the  hand  that  chose  her,  I  can 
receive  only  as  a  wife.  The  pacha  does  me  an  honor  which 
I  accept  with  gratitude,  though  I  am  old,  and  at  my  age,  hav« 
ing  already  a  wife  whom  I  love,  it  would  have  been  wiser  not 
to  risk  the  peace  of  my  household.  But  this  slave  has  not 
yet  arrived,  and  it  is  to  conduct  her  hither  that  I  need  your 
prudence  and  skill.  She  can  not  land  at  Djiddah,  which  is 
under  Turkish  rule,  and  must  therefore  go  to  Yambo,  in  my 
dominions.  The  way  is  long  from  Yambo  to  Taif,  and  the 
wandering  hordes  and  haughty  tribes  of  the  desert  do  not  al- 
ways respect  my  name.  It  does  not  suit  me  to  make  war 
on  them  at  present,  neither  is  it  fitting  that  I  should  expose 
myself  to  insult.  I  am  in  need,  therefore,  of  a  wise  and  saga- 
cious man  to  go  to  Yambo  for  me  as  if  on  his  own  behalf.  You 
can  easily  make  the  journey,  and  no  one  will  be  surprised  at  it. 
What  is  more  natural  than  that  you  should  go  to  meet  a  val- 
uable cargo,  and  who  would  attack  you,  a  simple  merchant,  in 
a  country  where  you  have  so  many  friends  and  resources  ?' 

"  Thus  spoke  the  sherif.  I  sought  to  decline  the  danger- 
ous favor,  but  was  met  with  a  terrible  look.  The  displeasure 
of  a  prince  is  like  the  roar  of  the  lion ;  to  incense  him  is  to 
rush  into  his  jaws.  I  resigned  myself  to  what  I  could  not 
help.  '  Commander  of  the  Faithful,'  I  replied, '  it  is  true  that 
God  has  blessed  my  efforts,  and  that  I  have  a  few  friends 
in  the  desert.  It  is  for  thee  to  command ;  speak,  and  I 
obey.'" 


278  Fairy  Book. 

"  That  is  well,"  said  Abdallah ;  "  there  is  peril  to  brave  and 
glory  to  win." 

"  It  is  for  this  reason  that  I  have  come  to  thee,"  resumed 
the  son  of  Mansour.  "  With  whom  should  I  share  this  noble 
enterprise  if  not  with  thee,  my  brother,  the  bravest  of  the 
brave — if  not  with  the  wise  and  prudent  Hafiz — if  not  with 
thy  bold  comrades  ?  The  Bedouins  on  the  road  have  never 
seen  me — they  only  know  my  name  ;  and,  besides,  instead  of 
defending  my  caravan,  they  might  plunder  it,  as  they  have 
done  more  than  once ;  but  if  thou  art  there  with  thy  follow- 
ers, they  will  think  twice  before  attacking  it.  To  thee,  there- 
fore, it  belongs  to  conduct  the  affair — to  thee  will  revert  all  the 
honor  thereof.  Thou  seest  that  I  speak  with  perfect  frank- 
ness. As  for  me,  I  am  only  a  merchant ;  thou  art  a  man  of 
thought  and  action.  It  is  said  in  the  desert  that  I  am  rich 
and  fond  of  money — a  reputation  which  is  a  peril  rather  than 
an  aid ;  thou,  on  the  contrary,  art  respected  and  dreaded. 
The  name  of  the  son  of  Yusuf  is  a  power — his  presence  is 
worth  an  army.  Without  thee  I  can  do  nothing ;  with  thee  I 
am  sure  of  succeeding  in  an  adventure  in  which  my  head  is  at 
stake.  Am  I  wrong  in  relying  on  thee  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Abdallah  ;  "  we  are  links  of  one  chain  ;  woe  to 
him  who  breaks  it !  We  will  set  out  to-morrow,  and,  happen 
what  may,  thou  shalt  find  me  by  thy  side.  A  brother  is  born 
for  evil  days." 

XIII. 

THE   CARAVAN. 

THE  same  evening  every  thing  was  in  readiness  for  depart- 
ure— the  skins  filled,  the  provisions  prepared,  the  bundles  of 
hay  counted,  and  the  harness  examined.  Abdallah  chose  the 
surest  camels  and  the  most  experienced  drivers.  Nor  was 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     279 

this  all :  he  engaged  twelve  young  men,  brave  companions,  of 
tried  courage,  who  laughed  at  fatigue  and  war.  Who  would 
not  have  been  proud  of  following  the  son  of  Yusuf  ?  His 
glance  commanded  respect,  his  words  went  to  the  heart. 
With  sabre  always  drawn  and  hand  always  open,  he  was  the 
boldest  of  leaders  and  the  tenderest  of  friends.  Beside  him 
men  were  as  tranquil  as  the  hawk  in  the  cloud  or  death  in  the 
tomb.  On  his  part,  Hafiz  passed  a  sleepless  night.  To  clean 
the  guns,  try  the  powder,  run  the  bullets,  and  sharpen  the  sa- 
bres and  daggers,  was  work  to  his  taste,  a  pleasure  that  he 
yielded  to  no  one. 

As  soon  as  the  stars  began  to  pale  the  caravan  set  out  on 
its  way,  with  Abdallah  at  the  head  by  the  side  of  Omar,  and 
Hafiz  in  the  rear,  watching  every  thing,  and  throwing  out 
timely  words  of  fault-finding  or  praise.  The  camels  walked 
slowly  in  single  file,  accompanied  by  their  leaders  chanting 
the  songs  of  the  desert.  In  the  midst  of  the  band  proudly 
marched  a  magnificent  dromedary,  with  a  slender  head,  of  the 
Oman  breed,  covered  with  gold,  silver,  and  shining  plumes, 
and  bearing  a  litter  hung  with  velvet  and  brocade,  the  equi- 
page of  the  new  favorite.  The  silver-pommeled  saddles,  Da- 
mascus blades,  and  black  burnous  embroidered  with  gold,  of 
twelve  riders  mounted  on  fine  horses,  glittered  in  the  first 
beams  of  the  sun.  Next  came  Abdallah's  mare,  led  by  a 
servant.  Nothing  could  be  imagined  more  beautiful  than  this 
mare,  the  glory  of  the  tribe,  and  the  despair  and  envy  of  all 
the  Bedouins :  she  was  called  Hamama,  the  Dove,  because 
she  was  as  snowy,  gentle,  and  fleet  as  this  queen  of  the  forests. 

Abdallah,  dressed  like  a  simple  camel-driver,  and  armed 
with  a  long  iron-headed  staff,  walked  on  foot  by  the  side  of 
Omar,  who  was  seated  tranquilly  on  his  mule.  They  were 
among  friends,  and  had  nothing  to  fear,  so  that  the  brothers 
could  talk  at  length  of  the  past.  When  the  sun  darted  its 


280  Fairy  Book. 

vertical  rays  on  their  heads,  and  the  scorching  air  enervated 
man  and  beast,  the  son  of  Yusuf  took  his  place  by  the  side 
of  the  first  camel-driver,  and,  in  a  grave  and  solemn  voice, 
chanted  one  of  those  hymns  of  the  desert  which  beguile  the 
lonely  way,  to  the  praise  of  God. 

God  alone  is  great ! 
Who  maketh  the  earth  to  tremble  ? 
Who  launcheth  the  thunderbolt  through  the  burning  air  ? 
Who  giveth  the  sands  to  the  fury  of  the  simoom  ? 
Who  causeth  the  torrent  to  gush  forth  from  its  arid  bed  ? 
His  name  ?  hearest  thou  it  not  in  the  whirlwind  ? 

God  alone  is  great ! 

God  alone  is  great ! 

Who  calleth  the  storm  from  the  depths  of  the  sea? 
Who  causeth  the  rain  and  clouds  to  give  way  before  the  sun  ? 
Who  forceth  the  hungry  wave  to  lick  the  strand  ? 
His  name  ?  the  wind  murmureth  it  in  its  flight  to  the  dying  wave : 

God  alone  is  great  1 

Oh  the  power  of  the  divine  name !  At  the  sound  of  these 
praises  the  very  brutes  forgot  their  fatigue  and  marched  with 
a  firm  tread;  the  camel-drivers  raised  their  heads;  all  re- 
freshed themselves  with  these  words  as  at  a  running  brook. 
It  is  the  strength  of  the  soul  that  gives  energy  to  the  body, 
and  for  the  soul  there  is  no  strength  but  in  God. 

Thus  passed  the  first  day.  The  next  day  some  precautions 
were  taken ;  Hafiz  went  in  advance  as  a  scout ;  they  set  out 
as  soon  as  the  moon  had  risen,  marched  in  silence,  and  stop- 
ped earlier  than  the  day  before,  but  saw  no  one.  The  suc- 
ceeding days  also  passed  quietly,  and  on  the  evening  of  the 
ninth  day's  march  they  saw  at  last  the  walls  and  towers  of 
Yambo. 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     281 


XIV. 

C  A  F  O  U  R. 

THE  caravan  made  a  short  stay  in  the  city ;  the  brig  that 
brought  the  slave  had  arrived  the  night  before,  and  Omar  was 
in  haste  to  return  in  peace  to  Djiddah.  The  camels  rested, 
they  took  the  way  to  the  desert. 

They  received  the  sultana  at  the  water's  edge.  A  flat-boat 
put  off  from  the  ship  with  two  women  wrapped  in  habarahs,  or 
large  mantles  of  black  taffeta,  and  their  faces  shrouded,  all  but 
the  eyes,  in  bourkos,  or  white  muslin  veils  that  fell  to  the  feet. 
Omar  received  the  strangers  with  a  respectful  bow,  and  led  them 
to  the  equipage  that  awaited  them.  The  dromedary  knelt  down 
at  the  voice  of  Abdallah.  One  of  the  women  slowly  mounted 
the  palanquin  and  seated  herself,  gracefully  drawing  the  folds 
of  her  robe  about  her ;  the  other  approached  with  equal  gravi- 
ty, but,  suddenly  snatching  off  her  mantle  and  veil,  she  threw 
them  over  Omar's  head,  twisting  the  muslin  around  his  face, 
and  almost  smothering  him ;  then,  putting  one  foot  on  the  cam- 
el's neck,  she  leaped  on  his  back  like  a  cat,  grimacing  like  an 
ape  at  the  astonished  Bedouins,  and  shouting  with  laughter. 

"  Cafour,  you  shall  be  whipped,"  cried  the  veiled  lady,  who 
had  much  ado  to  preserve  her  gravity;  but  Cafour  did  not 
believe  her  mistress's  threats,  and  continued  to  laugh  and 
grimace  at  Omar  as  soon  as  his  head  emerged  from  the  cover- 
ings. The  son  of  Mansour  at  last  threw  off  the  heap  of  silk 
under  which  he  had  been  buried,  and  raised  his  head  angrily 
toward  the  creature  that  had  insulted  him ;  but  what  was  his 
astonishment  to  see  a  smile  on  the  faces  of  the  grave  Bed- 
ouins and  Abdallah  himself.  All  shrugged  their  shoulders  as 
they  pointed  to  his  enemy.  He  looked,  and  saw  a  little  negro 
girl  of  surpassing  ugliness.  A  round  flat  face,  with  small  eyes. 


282  Fairy  Book. 

the  whites  of  which  were  scarcely  visible,  a  flat  nose  sunken 
below  the  cheeks,  wide  nostrils,  from  which  hung  a  silver  ring 
that  fell  below  the  mouth,  enormous  lips,  teeth  as  white  as 
those  of  a  young  dog,  and  a  chin  tattooed  blue — such  was  the 
charming  face  of  the  damsel.  To  add  to  her  ugliness,  she 
was  loaded  with  jewels  like  an  idol.  On  the  crown  of  her 
head  was  a  plume  of  parrot's  feathers.  The  thick  wool  that 
covered  her  head  was  parted  in  little  tresses  ornamented  with 
sequins ;  her  ears  were  pierced  like  a  sieve,  and  hung  with 
rings  of  every  shape  and  size ;  a  broad  necklace  of  blue  en- 
amel encircled  her  neck,  and  her  arm  was  covered  from  the 
wrist  to  the  elbow  with  seven  or  eight  bracelets  of  coral,  am- 
ber, and  filigree  work ;  lastly,  she  wore  on  each  ankle  a  pro- 
digious silver  band.  Such  was  Cafour,  the  delight  of  her  mis- 
tress, the  beautiful  Leila. 

Full  license  is  given  fools,  the  favorites  of  God,  whose  soul 
is  in  heaven  while  their  body  drags  on  the  earth.  The  whole 
caravan,  therefore/except  Omar,  who  still  bore  her  a  grudge, 
took  a  liking  to  the  poor  negress.  It  was  but  too  evident 
that  she  had  not  her  reason  ;  she  talked  and  laughed  contin- 
ually ;  her  tongue  spared  nobody,  and  her  judgments  were  in- 
sane. For  instance,  she  gazed  long  at  the  son  of  Mansour, 
who,  half  reclining  on  his  mule,  marched  by  the  side  of  the 
litter,  surrounded  by  his  slaves,  slowly  smoking  Persian  to- 
bacco in  his  jasmine  pipe.  One  of  the  servants  having  filled 
the  pipe  too  full,  he  dealt  him  a  box  on  the  ear.  "  Mistress," 
cried  Cafour,  "  do  you  see  that  old  man  buried  in  a  cushion, 
with  his  feet  in  slippers  ?  He  is  a  Jew,  mistress  ;  beware  of 
him ;  he  would  beat  us  for  a  douro,  and  sell  us  for  a  sequin." 
Leila  laughed,  while  Omar  flew  into  a  passion  and  threatened 
the  negress.  To  style  a  man  who  counted  his  piastres  by 
millions  an  old  man  and  a  Jew  was  indeed  the  act  of  an  idiot. 
What  person  in  his  right  mind  would  have  dared  to  talk  thus  ? 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     283 

It  was  soon  the  turn  of  Abdallah,  who  was  reviewing  the  car- 
avan. He  had  put  on  his  war-dress,  and  every  one  admired 
the  grace  of  the  young  chief.  His  white  burnous  floated  in 
long  folds ;  his  Damascus  pistols  and  silver-hilted  cangiar 
glittered  in  his  belt;  and  a  red  and  yellow  silk  turban  over- 
shadowed his  eyes,  and  added  to  the  fierceness  of  his  glance. 
How  beautiful  he  was  !  All  hearts  went  out  toward  him,  and 
his  very  mare  seemed  proud  of  carrying  such  a  master.  Ha- 
mama  tossed  her  serpentine  head  and  reed-like  ears ;  her 
dilated  nostrils  breathed  forth  fire ;  on  seeing  her  start,  vault, 
stop  short,  and  bound  forward,  it  seemed  as  if  she  and  her 
rider  were  but  one.  As  the  son  of  Yusuf  paused  near  the  lit- 
ter, a  camel-driver  could  not  help  saying  to  Cafour,  "  Look, 
child ;  do  you  see  such  beauty  among  your  coarse  Egyptians 
or  in  your  Maghreb  ?" 

"  Look,  mistress,"  cried  the  negress,  leaning  over  the  camel's 
neck ;  "  see  these  fine  clothes,  elegant  air,  tapering  fingers,  and 
cast-down  eyes  !  Pretty  bird,  why  don't  you  look  at  us  ?"  said 
she  to  Abdallah.  "  Oh,  I  know ;  it  is  a  woman  in  disguise — 
the  virgin  of  the  tribe.  Driver,  tell  him  to  come  up  here ;  he 
belongs  here  with  us." 

"  Silence,  infidel !"  exclaimed  Abdallah,  losing  his  patience. 
"Must  you  have  a  ring  through  your  lips  to  stop  your  ser- 
pent's tongue  ?" 

"  It  is  a  woman,"  said  Cafour,  laughing  loudly ;  "  a  man 
does  not  avenge  himself  by  insults.  Come,  women  are  made 
to  love  each  other.  You  are  handsome,  and  so  am  I,  but  my 
mistress  is  the  handsomest  of  the  three.  Look !" 

The  eye  is  quicker  than  the  thought.  Abdallah  raised  his 
eyes  to  the  litter.  Cafour  playfully  laid  hold  of  her  mistress's 
veil,  the  frightened  Leila  drew  back,  the  string  broke,  and  the 
bourko  fell.  Leila  uttered  a  cry  and  covered  her  face  with 
one  hand,  while  with  the  other  she  boxed  the  ears  of  the  ne- 


284  Fairy  Book. 

gress,  who  began  to  cry.  The  whole  passed  like  a  flash  of 
lightning. 

"  How  beautiful  she  is !"  thought  the  son  of  Mansour.  "  I 
must  have  her." 

"  Glory  to  Him  who  created  her,  and  created  her  so  per- 
fect !"  murmured  the  son  of  Yusuf. 

Who  can  tell  the  pain  and  pleasure  that  a  moment  can 
contain  ?  Who  can  tell  how  this  fleeting  vision  entered  and 
filled  Abdallah's  soul  ?  The  caravan  went  on,  but  the  Bed- 
ouin remained  motionless.  Leila  had  hidden  herself  in  her 
veil,  yet  a  woman  stood  smiling  before  the  son  of  Yusuf.  He 
closed  his  eyes,  yet,  despite  himself,  he  saw  a  brow  as  white  as 
ivory,  cheeks  as  blooming  as  the  tulip,  and  tresses  blacker 
than  ebony  falling  on  a  gazelle-like  neck,  like  the  date-branch 
laden  with  golden  fruit.  A  pair  of  lips  like  a  thread  of  scarlet 
parted  to  call  him ;  a  pair  of  large  eyes  gazed  at  him — eyes 
surrounded  with  a  bluish  ring,  and  sparkling  with  a  lustre 
softer  than  that  of  the  violet  moist  with  dew.  Abdallah  felt 
his  heart  escaping  him ;  he  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and 
burst  into  tears. 

The  caravan  continued  its  march,  and  old  Hafiz,  who 
brought  up  the  rear,  soon  found  himself  by  the  side  of  his 
nephew.  Astonished  at  the  silence  and  inaction  of  the  young 
chief,  he  approached  him,  and,  touching  his  arm,  "  Something 
new  has  happened,  has  there  not  ?"  he  asked. 

Abdallah  started,  and,  recovering  himself  like  a  man 
aroused  from  a  dream, "  Yes,  my  father,"  he  answered  in  a 
dejected  tone. 

"  The  enemy  is  at  hand  !"  cried  Hafiz,  with  sparkling  eyes  ; 
"you  have  seen  him!  Glory  to  God,  our  guns  are  about  to 
speak !" 

"  No  one  threatens  us ;  the  danger  is  not  there." 

"  What  is  the  matter  then,  my  son  ?"  said  the  old  man,  anx- 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     285 

iously.     "Are  you  sick?  have  you  a  fever?     You  know  that 
I  am  skilled  in  the  art  of  healing." 

"  That  is  not  it :  at  our  first  halt  I  will  tell  you  all." 
"  You  frighten  me,"  said  Hafiz  j  "  if  it  is  neither  danger  nor 
sickness  that  disturbs  you,  some  evil  passion  must  be  troub- 
ling your  soul !  Take  care,  my  son  ;  with  God's  aid  the  foe  is 
defeated,  and  with  God's  aid  sickness  is  cured :  there  is  but 
one  enemy  against  which  there  is  no  defense,  and  that  enemy 
is  our  own  heart." 

XV. 

THE   SULTAN   OF  CANDAHAR. 

WHEN  the  caravan  halted,  Abdallah  took  his  uncle  aside. 
Hafiz  seated  himself  on  his  carpet  and  began  to  smoke,  with- 
out uttering  a  word.  The  young  chief,  wrapped  in  his  cloak, 
stretched  himself  on  the  ground,  and  long  remained  motion- 
less. Suddenly  he  started  up,  and,  kissing  the  old  man's 
hand,  "  My  uncle,"  said  he,  "  I  implore  the  protection  of  God. 
What  God  wills  must  come ;  there  is  no  strength  nor  power 
but  in  Him."  And,  in  an  agitated  voice,  he  related  the  vision 
which  had  troubled  him. 

"  Oh,  my  son,"  said  the  shepherd,  with  a  sigh,  "  thou  art 
punished  for  not  hearkening  to  our  words.  Happy  is  he  who 
chooses  a  virtuous  and  obedient  wife  from  among  his  tribe, 
with  the  sole  desire  of  perpetuating  the  name  of  his  father. 
Woe  to  him  who  suffers  his  soul  to  be  taken  in  the  snares  of 
a  strange  woman !  Can  any  thing  good  come  out  of  Egypt  ? 
All  the  women  there,  since  Joseph's  time,  have  been  dissolute 
and  treacherous,  worthy  daughters  of  Zuleika  !"* 

"  Treachery  had  naught  to  do  with  it,  my  uncle ;  it  was 
wholly  the  work  of  chance." 

*  The  name  given  by  the  Arabs  to  Potiphar's  wife. 


286  Fairy  Book. 

"  Do  not  believe  it,  my  nephew ;  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
chance  with  these  cunning  fishers  for  men's  hearts,  who  spread 
their  nets  every  where." 

"  She  loves  me,  then !"  exclaimed  the  youth,  starting  up  j 
"  but  no,  my  uncle,  you  are  mistaken.  In  two  days  we  shall 
be  at  Taif ;  in  two  days  we  shall  be  separated  forever,  yet  I 
feel  that  I  shall  always  love  her !" 

"  Yes,  you  will  love  her,  but  she  will  forget  you  for  the 
first  jewel  from  the  hand  of  her  new  master.  Your  heart 
serves  her  as  a  plaything ;  when  the  whim  of  the  moment  has 
passed,  she  will  break  it  without  remorse.  Have  your  for- 
gotten what  the  Koran  says  of  that  imperfect  and  capricious 
being  who  is  brought  up  among  ornaments  and  jewels  ?  *  The 
reason  of  women  is  folly,  and  their  religion  love.  Like  the 
flowers,  they  are  the  delight  of  the  eyes  and  the  joy  of  the 
senses,  but  they  are  poisoned  blossoms ;  woe  to  him  who 
draws  near  them ;  he  will  soon  have  a  winding-sheet  for  his 
raiment !'  Believe  in  my  experience  ;  I  have  seen  more  fam- 
ilies destroyed  by  women  than  by  wan  The  more  generous 
a  man  is,  the  greater  is  his  danger.  Do  you  not  know  the 
story  of  the  Sultan  of  Candahar,  who  was  a  true  believer, 
though  he  lived  in  the  days  of  ignorance  before  the  coming 
of  Mohammed,  and  a  sage,  though  he  sat  on  a  throne  ?  He 
undertook  to  gather  together  all  the  maxims  of  human  pru- 
dence, in  order  to  leave  to  his  children  an  inheritance  worthy 
of  him.  With  this  end,  the  philosophers  of  the  Indies  had 
written  a  library,  which  he  took  with  him  every  where,  and 
which  ten  camels  scarce  sufficed  to  carry.  *  Reduce  all  this 
science  to  first  principles,'  said  he.  It  was  done,  and  but  a 
camel's  load  remained.  This  was  still  too  much.  A  number 
of  aged  Brahmins,  chosen  by  the  king,  reduced  this  abridg- 
ment of  long  experience  first  to  ten  volumes,  then  to  five,  and 
then  to  a  single  one,  which  was  offered  to  the  sultan  in  a  box 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     287 

of  velvet  and  gold.  The  prince  had  reigned  long,  and  life 
had  few  secrets  from  him.  He  took  the  book,  and  began  to 
blot  out  all  that  was  self-evident  and  therefore  unnecessary. 
1  What  is  the  danger  that  threatens  my  sons  ?'  thought  he ; 
*  not  avarice,  for  that  is  the  malady  of  the  old  ;  nor  ambition, 
for  that  is  the  virtue  of  princes.  I  will  strike  out  all  this.  But 
at  last  he  came  to  a  more  violent  passion.  He  was  so  forci- 
bly struck  by  the  truth  of  an  adage  that  he  threw  the  book 
into  the  fire,  and  bequeathed  this  maxim  alone  to  his  chil- 
dren, calling  it  the  key  to  the  treasure  of  life  :  '  All  women 
are  false — above  all,  the  one  that  loves  thee !'  Such  was  the 
adage.  Wouldst  thou,  my  son,  be  more  prudent  than  this  in- 
fidel, more  enlightened  than  Solomon,  or  wiser  than  the  Proph- 
et? No;  believe  me,  the  beauty  of  woman  is  like  the  scab- 
bard of  the  sabre — a  glittering  covering  that  hides  death.  Do 
not  go  to  meet  thy  destruction.  Think  of  God,  preserve  thy- 
self for  thy  old  and  true  friends,  and,  if  more  is  needed  to 
move  thee,  have  pity  on  thy  mother  and  old  Hafiz." 

"Thou  art  right,"  said  Abdallah,  sadly,  as  he  stretched 
himself  on  the  ground,  with  his  burnous  for  a  pillow.  For 
the  first  time  he  did  not  believe  his  uncle's  words ;  for  the 
first  time,  too,  the  four-leaved  clover  was  forgotten. 


XVI. 

THE   ATTACK. 

NIGHT  is  an  antidote  to  fatigue  and  a  poison  to  sorrow. 
The  son  of  Yusuf  rose  with  a  mind  more  diseased  than  the 
night  before.  Struck  with  incurable  madness,  he  no  longer 
felt  himself  the  master  of  his  will  or  his  movements ;  it  was 
the  delirium  of  fever,  the  dejection  of  despair.  Despite  him- 
self, the  fatal  litter  attracted  him ;  he  hastened  to  it,  then 
turned  and  fled,  pursued  by  those  terrible  yet  charming  eyes. 


288  Fairy  Book. 

If  he  saw  from  afar  a  horseman  approaching  the  palanquin—- 
if the  son  of  Mansour  turned  toward  the  two  women,  he  spur- 
red on  his  horse  as  if  about  to  attack  an  enemy,  then  sud- 
denly paused,  daring  neither  to  draw  back  nor  advance.  The 
whole  morning  he  tortured  his  horse.  Panting  and  covered 
with  foam,  Hamama  bounded  forward  under  the  spur  which 
tore  her  sides,  astonished  at  not  understanding  her  master 
and  sharing  his  madness. 

The  shepherd  cast  withering  glances  toward  the  litter. 
Leila  had  thrown  herself  back  in  the  corner,  and  covered  her 
head  with  her  veil,  and  no  one  was  to  be  seen  but  Cafour, 
spiritless  and  mute  as  a  wet  bird.  More  tranquil  in  this  re- 
spect, Hafiz  turned  to  look  for  his  nephew,  and  saw  him  wan- 
dering at  random  in  the  desert.  Every  thing  about  him  be- 
trayed a  diseased  mind.  Hafiz  spurred  his  horse  toward 
Abdallah.  "  Cheer  up,  my  nephew !"  he  cried.  "  Courage  ! 
We  are  men  in  order  to  suffer;  we  are  Mussulmen  in  order 
to  submit  to  fate." 

"  I  am  stifling,"  answered  the  youth ;  "  I  am  conquered  by 
the  malady  that  is  preying  upon  me.  Any  thing — any  thing, 
my  uncle,  rather  than  what  I  suffer !  Let  danger  come — let 
the  enemy  draw  near ;  I  wish  to  fight  and  to  die !" 

"  Mad  wishes  and  guilty  words,"  replied  the  old  man,  stern- 
ly. "  God  is  the  master  of  life  and  death.  Beware  lest  he 
grant  thy  prayer ;  it  is  sufficient  punishment  that  God  should 
give  us  what  we  ask  him  in  our  folly.  What  is  that?"  he 
added,  leaping  from  his  horse,  and  carefully  examining  the 
ground.  "  These  are  the  prints  of  horses'  feet ;  there  are  no 
camels  among  them.  An  armed  band  has  passed  this  way. 
The  marks  are  fresh ;  the  enemy  is  not  far  off.  Do  you  not 
feel  that  your  passion  is  destroying  us  ?  You,  our  leader,  have 
noticed  nothing ;  you  are  leading  us  to  death." 

The  two  companions  looked  about  them,  but  saw  nothing 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     289 

but  the  desert.  They  were  passing  through  a  desolate  coun- 
try. The  road  wound  among  prodigious  blocks  of  reddish 
granite,  strewed  over  the  sands  like  crumbling  ruins.  The 
earth  was  full  of  gaping  crevices,  the  beds  of  dried-up  tor- 
rents and  deep  caves — graves  open  for  the  traveler.  There 
was  not  a  bird  in  the  air,  not  a  gazelle  in  the  distance,  not 
a  black  speck  in  the  horizon  ;  with  a  steel-like  sky  above 
their  heads,  and  the  silence  of  death  around  them,  attacked 
there,  their  only  hope  was  in  their  sabres  and  God. 

Hafiz  ran  to  the  head  of  the  caravan.  Each  one  fell  in 
line  and  was  as  silent  as  in  a  night-march ;  naught  was  to  be 
heard  but  the  crackling  of  the  sand  under  the  feet  of  the 
camels.  After  an  hour's  march — an  hour  which  seemed  in- 
terminable— they  reached  a  hill  which  it  was  necessary  to 
turn.  Hafiz  went  in  advance ;  he  ascended  the  hill,  and, 
leaving  his  horse  half  way  from  the  top,  crept  on  his  belly 
among  the  rocks.  After  gazing  long,  he  noiselessly  descend- 
ed, put  his  horse  to  the  gallop,  and  reached  Abdallah's  side, 
his  face  as  calm  as  at  his  departure.  "  There  are  white  tents 
in  the  distance,"  said  he.  "  They  are  not  Bedouins,  but  Ar- 
nauts  from  Djiddah.  They  are  numerous,  and  are  awaiting 
us ;  we  have  been  betrayed.  No  matter ;  we  will  sell  our 
skin  more  dearly  than  they  will  care  to  buy  it.  Forward,  my 
son,  and  do  your  duty."  And,  calling  six  of  the  bravest  of 
the  company,  Hafiz  loaded  his  gun  and  again  took  the  way  to 
the  height. 

Abdallah  had  just  reached  the  head  of  the  column  when  a 
white  smoke  appeared  from  a  rock,  a  bullet  whizzed  through 
the  air,  and  a  camel  fell.  Great  confusion  instantly  prevailed 
in  the  caravan ;  the  camels  fell  back,  rushing  against  and 
overthrowing  each  other  ;  the  drivers  fled  to  the  rear,  and  the 
horsemen  rushed  to  the  front.  It  seemed  like  a  forest  shaken 
by  the  wind.  The  moans  of  the  camels  and  neighing  of  the 

N 


290  Fairy  Book. 

horses  mingled  with  the  shouts  of  the  men.  In  the  disorder, 
a  handful  of  robbers,  whose  red  vests,  white  drawers,  and 
broad  girdles  easily  showed  them  to  be  Arnauts,  fell  upon  the 
litter  and  hurried  it  away  with  shouts  of  joy.  It  was  in  vain 
that  Abdallah  and  his  friends  attempted  to  charge  on  them  ; 
the  sharp-shooters  in  ambush  felled  them  on  the  way.  Thrice 
Abdallah  spurred  his  horse  against  his  invisible  foe ;  thrice 
he  was  forced  to  return,  his  comrades  falling  around  him. 

Abdallah  trembled  with  rage  ;  by  his  side,  and  not  less  ex- 
cited, was  Omar,  rending  his  clothes — Omar,  whose  passion 
made  him  forget  all  prudence,  and  who  thought  of  nothing 
but  the  treasure  that  was  snatched  from  him.  "  Forward,  my 
brother !"  he  cried.  Both  were  reining  up  their  horses  for  a 
last  effort,  when  several  musket-shots  followed  each  other  rap- 
idly. The  Arnauts  had  forgotten  old  Hafiz,  who  suddenly 
came  upon  tfyem  from  above,  and  shot  them  down  without 
pity. 

The  road  clear,  the  brothers  rushed  forward,  followed  by 
Hafiz.  "  Gently,  my  son,"  cried  he  to  Abdallah ;  "  spare  your 
horse  ;  we  have  time." 

"  Where  is  Leila,  my  uncle  ?  They  are  carrying  her  off ,• 
she  is  lost." 

"  Old  fool,"  said  Omar,  "  do  you  think  that  these  robbers 
will  wait  for  us  ?  Twenty  douros  to  him  who  brings  down  the 
dromedary !" 

One  of  the  Bedouins  raised  his  gun,  and,  taking  aim,  fired, 
at  the  risk  of  killing  the  two  women.  The  shot  struck  the 
shoulder  of  the  animal,  which  fell  with  his  precious  burden. 

"  Well  done,  young  man,"  said  Hafiz,  sarcastically,  to  the 
Bedouin.  "  The  Arnauts  will  thank  you  ;  you  have  rid  them 
of  the  only  obstacle  to  their  flight.  Now  the  sultana  is  lost." 

Hafiz  had  judged  but  too  rightly.  The  robbers  surrounded 
the  litter  and  tore  from  it  a  woman  wrapped  in  a  mantle, 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.    291 

in  whom  Abdallah  recognized  Leila ;  then,  by  the  command  of 
a  magnificently-dressed  chief,  a  man  took  hen  behind  him  and 
set  off  at  full  gallop.  At  this  sight  the  son  of  Yusuf  darted 
upon  the  enemy  like  an  eagle  from  the  clouds.  "  Dog !  son 
of  a  dog !"  he  cried,  "  show  your  face,  if  you  are  a  man  !  Is  it 
to  fly  the  better  that  you  have  so  fine  a  horse  ?"  And  he  fired 
his  pistol  at  him. 

"  Wait,  son  of  a  Jew !"  said  the  captain,  turning  round,  "  my 
sabre  is  thirsting  for  your  blood." 

"  Forward,  children  of  powder !"  cried  old  Hafiz.  "  Charge, 
my  sons  ;  death  before  disgrace  !  Charge  !  Bullets  do  not 
kill.  What  is  to  be  will  be,  according  to  God's  will." 

Abdallah  and  the  Arnaut  rushed  upon  each  other  at  full 
speed.  The  captain  advanced  with  a  pistol  in  one  hand  and 
a  sword  in  the  other.  Abdallah  had  nothing  but  a  dagger, 
which  he  held  in  his  hand  as  he  leaned  forward,  almost  con- 
cealed by  the  mare's  neck.  The  Arnaut  fired  and  missed. 
The  horses  met  with  a  violent  shock,  and  the  riders  engaged 
hand  to  hand.  But  Abdallah  had  the  strength  and  rage  of  a 
lion ;  he  seized  his  rival  around  the  waist,  shook  him  with  a 
terrible  grasp,  and  plunged  his  dagger  into  his  breast.  The 
blood  spouted  forth  like  wine  from  a  pierced  skin,  and  the 
Arnaut  bounded  up  and  reeled  in  his  saddle.  Abdallah 
snatched  him  from  his  horse  and  threw  him  on  the  ground 
as  if  to  trample  on  him.  "  There  is  one  that  will  drink  no 
more,"  said  Hafiz,  leaping  on  the  body  to  despoil  it. 

The  fall  of  the  captain,  the  swords  of  the  Bedouins,  who  fell 
on  the  enemy  like  bees  robbed  of  their  honey,  and  the  cries 
of  the  camel-drivers,  who  rushed  thither  with  their  guns,  soon 
decided  the  day.  The  Arnaut  troop  disappeared  amid  dust 
and  smoke,  the  bravest  remaining  in  the  rear  and  firing  their 
pistols  to  protect  a  retreat  which  it  was  not  dared  to  molest. 
The  victory  was  dearly  bought ;  more  than  one  was  wounded. 


292  Fairy  Book. 

"  Well,  my  brother,"  said  Omar,  with  flashing  eyes,  "  shall 
we  stand  here  while  these  robbers  are  carrying  off  our  prop- 
erty?" 

"  Forward,  my  friends  !"  cried  Abdallah.  "  One  more  effort ; 
we  must  have  the  sultana." 

"  She  is  here,  my  lord,  she  is  here,"  answered  several  voices. 

Abdallah  turned  abruptly  and  saw  Leila,  who  had  just  been 
extricated  from  the  litter,  covered  with  dust  and  blood,  with 
pale  face  and  disheveled  hair,  yet  more  beautiful  than  ever 
despite  this  disorder.  "  Save  me  !"  she  cried,  stretching  out 
her  arms,  "save  me  !  my  only  hope  is  in  you." 

"  Who  was  it,  then,  that  those  knaves  carried  off?"  asked 
Hafiz. 

"  It  was  Cafour,"  said  Leila ;  "  she  had  put  on  my  mantle 
and  wrapped  me  in  her  burnous." 

"  Well  played,"  said  a  Bedouin,  laughing ;  "  those  sons  of 
dogs  have  taken  an  ape  for  a  woman." 

"  Let  us  begone  quickly,"  cried  the  son  of  Mansour,  feast- 
ing his  eyes  on  Leila.  "  Let  us  begone ;  the  day  is  ours. 
Come,  madam,  do  not  mourn  for  the  slave,"  said  he  to  Leila. 
"  For  two  hundred  douros  I  can  buy  just  such  another  at  Djid- 
dah,  which  I  shall  be  happy  to  offer  you." 

"  Let  us  go,"  echoed  the  camel-drivers  ;  "  the  band  is  large, 
and  will  return  to  attack  us  during  the  night." 

Hafiz  looked  at  Abdallah.  "  What !"  said  the  young  man, 
moved  with  pity,  "  shall  we  leave  the  negress  in  the  hands  of 
these  wretches  ?" 

"  What  is  written  is  written,"  replied  Omar,  who  had  lost 
all  desire  to  fight.  "  Is  it  wise,  my  brother,  to  risk  your  life 
and  that  of  these  brave  Mussulmen  for  a  heathen  whom  we 
can  replace  in  two  days  ?  We  must  go  ;  we  are  expected  at 
Taif.  Are  you  about  to  quit  us  when  we  are  in  need  of 
you  ?" 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     293 

"  Abdallah,"  said  the  young  woman,  raising  her  beautiful 
eyes  to  him,  "  do  not  abandon  me !" 

The  son  of  Yusuf  placed  his  hand  on  his  heart,  which  he 
felt  faltering.  "  No,  no,"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  it  shall  not  be  said 
that  a  Bedouin  forfeits  his  word.  If  a  sack  of  coffee  had  been 
intrusted  to  me,  I  would  not  leave  it  in  the  hands  of  these 
robbers,  and  shall  I  abandon  to  them  one  of  God's  creatures  ? 
Are  there  any  men  here  ?  Who  will  come  with  me  ?"  There 
was  silence,  and  one  of  the  Beni  Amurs  stepped  forth. 

"There  are  six  of  us  wounded,  and  the  sultana  is  saved," 
said  he.  "  We  have  kept  our  engagement." 

"  Come,  my  child,"  said  Hafiz,  ironically,  "  I  see  that  we 
are  the  only  two  here  that  have  madness  in  our  veins.  Let 
us  go.  With  God's  aid,  we  will  recover  the  child." 

"  Adieu,  my  brother,"  said  Abdallah,  embracing  Omar  j 
"  take  good  care  of  the  stranger.  If  you  do  not  see  me  in 
two  days,  tell  the  sherif  that  I  have  done  my  duty,  and  my 
mother  not  to  weep  for  me."  And,  without  turning  his  head, 
the  son  of  Yusuf  took  the  way  to  the  desert,  accompanied  by 
Hafiz,  who  unclasped  his  burnous,  and  threw  over  his  shoul- 
ders a  camel-driver's  cloak.  "  We  need  the  skin  of  the  fox 
instead  of  the  lion,"  said  he,  laughing. 

Omar  followed  them  with  his  eyes,  and  when  he  saw  them 
disappear,  "  If  they  do  not  return,"  thought  he,  "  it  will  be  no 
great  matter.  I  shall  make  a  better  bargain  with  the  sherif 
than  with  that  youth.  It  is  not  easy  to  dazzle  or  deceive 
these  madcaps  who  never  reason.  Hurrah  for  men  that  cal- 
culate !  they  are  always  to  be  bought,  and  through  their  wis- 
dom we  get  them  at  half  price." 

As  he  went  on,  Abdallah  heard  behind  him  the  shouts  of 
the  camel-drivers  and  the  noise  of  the  moving  caravan.  He 
was  quitting  all  that  he  loved  for  a  strange  child.  More  than 
once  he  was  inclined  to  look  back,  but  he  dared  not  brave  his 


294  Fairy  Book. 

uncle,  who,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  him,  seemed  to  read  the  depths 
of  his  heart.  When  the  last  sound  died  away  in  the  distance, 
Abdallah  paused  in  spite  of  himself.  His  horse  turned  round, 
snuffing  the  wind,  and  anxious  to  rejoin  its  friends.  Hafiz 
laid  his  hand  on  the  young  man's  shoulder :  "  My  son,"  said 
he,  "your  road  lies  before  you." 


XVIII. 

AFTER  an  hour's  march  they  came  in  sight  of  the  Arnaut 
tents,  until  then  hidden  by  a  rising  ground.  The  camp  was  in 
the  midst  of  a  small  tract  of  brushwood,  where  the  cattle  had 
been  turned  out  to  browse.  "  Let  us  stop  here,"  said  Hafiz, 
approaching  a  rock  illumined  by  the  setting  sun ;  "  we  have 
six  hours  before  us." 

The  horses  tethered,  the  old  man  set  to  work  to  pick  up 
the  dead  branches,  and  tie  them  in  small  bundles,  with  car- 
touches and  cotton  inside.  When  he  had  finished  his  task,  he 
took  from  a  bag  a  piece  of  dried  meat  and  a  handful  of  dates ; 
and,  having  eaten  them,  lighted  his  pipe,  and  began  to  smoke 
tranquilly.  "  Now,  my  nephew,"  said  he,  "  I  am  going  to 
sleep.  Lovers  do  not  need  repose,  but  old  men  are  not  like 
lovers.  Wake  me  when  the  Great  Bear  and  her  cubs  are 
yonder  in  the  horizon."  A  few  moments  after  he  was  asleep, 
while  Abdallah,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands,  mused  on  her 
whom  he  had  saved,  and  was  never  more  to  behold. 

Hafiz  awakened  of  his  own  accord  just  before  the  time 
appointed,  and  looked  tenderly  at  his  young  companion. 
"  Well,  my  child,"  said  he,  "  you  wished  for  danger  that  you 
might  forget  your  folly,  and  God  has  granted  your  prayer. 
Have  courage ;  two  friends  that  cling  together  will  come  out 
safe  from  the  fire." 

On  nearing  the  camp,  the  Bedouins  glided  among  the  bri 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     295 

ers  and  bushes.  By  creeping  on  their  hands  and  knees  be- 
tween the  horses'  legs,  they  assured  themselves  that  it  was 
defenseless.  No  sentinels  had  been  posted  except  at  a  dis- 
tant point ;  all  were  asleep  ;  the  fires  had  gone  out,  and  only 
one  tent  was  lighted.  They  noiselessly  crept  toward  it ;  be- 
ing in  the  shade,  they  could  see  without  being  seen.  "  List- 
en," said  Hafiz ;  "  perhaps  we  shall  learn  what  has  become 
of  the  child." 

Three  men,  better  dressed  than  soldiers,  were  seated  on 
carpets,  smoking  long  pipes,  around  a  table*  on  which  coffee 
was  served.  A  lamp  in  the  middle  dimly  lighted  their  faces. 
All  three  were  talking  warmly. 

"  A  bad  day's  work  !"  said  one  of  the  officers.  "  Who  would 
have  thought  that  the  captain  would  have  let  himself  be  killed 
by  a  camel-driver !" 

"  My  dear  Hassan,"  answered  the  youngest  of  the  party, 
"  what  is  one  man's  misfortune  is  another's  good  luck.  Since 
the  captain  is  dead,  the  command  belongs  to  us." 

"  Very  well,  my  dear  Mohammed,"  returned  Hassan  ;  "  but 
which  of  us  three  shall  be  chief?" 

"  I  will  sell  my  chance,"  said  the  one  who  had  not  yet 
spoken,  and  who  stood  with  his  back  to  Abdallah.  "  It  is 
said  that  the  woman  we  have  taken  is  a  relative  of  the  Pacha 
of  Egypt.  Give  me  the  sultana,  and  I  will  return  to  Epirus 
to  live  at  my  ease.  A  graybeard  like  me  cares  little  for  a 
woman,  but  the  sherif  will  think  differently.  To  him  the  pris- 
oner will  be  well  worth  five  thousand  douros." 

"  Done,"  said  Hassan.  "  Kara  Shitan,  I  surrender  to  you 
my  share  of  the  prize." 

"  But  I  do  not,"  said  Mohammed  ;  "  I  am  twenty-five,  and 
do  not  sell  women.  The  idea  of  marrying  a  sultana  pleases 

*  These  tables,  called  kursi,  are  a  species  of  benches  from  fifteen  to  eighteen  inches 
high. 


296  Fairy  Book. 

me.  I  should  not  be  sorry  to  be  the  pacha's  cousin.  My 
share  of  the  command  for  the  princess.  I  have  time  enough 
to  become  captain." 

"  We  can  arrange  it,"  said  the  graybeard ;  "  the  sword  to 
one,  the  woman  to  another,  and  the  money  to  me." 

"  So  be  it,"  said  Hassan.  "  I  will  give  two  thousand 
douros." 

"  But  what  will  Mohammed  give  ?" 

"  Mohammed  will  promise  any  thing  you  like,"  replied  the 
young  man,  laughing.  "  He  who  has  nothing  but  hope  in  his 
purse  does  not  stop  to  haggle." 

"You  have  a  black  mare  ;  I  will  take  her." 

"  Old  Jew,"  cried  Mohammed,  "  dare  to  touch  my  mare  and 
I  will  break  your  head." 

"  Then  you  shall  not  have  the  sultana,"  returned  the  gray- 
beard. 

"Who  will  hinder  me?" 

"  A  man  that  fears  you  little,"  cried  Kara  Shitan ;  and,  go- 
ing to  the  end  of  the  tent,  he  touched  the  curtain  that  divided 
it  in  two.  "  The  sultana  is  here ;  take  her  if  you  can,"  he 
said. 

Mohammed  drew  his  dagger.  Hassan  threw  himself  be- 
tween the  rivals,  opposing  prayers  and  counsels  to  threats  and 
insults,  without  succeeding  in  imposing  silence  on  the  oppo- 
nents. 

"  We  have  them,"  whispered  Hafiz  in  Abdallah's  ear.  "  I 
am  going  to  draw  them  from  the  tent ;  take  the  child,  go  with 
the  horses,  and  wait  for  me  at  the  Red  Rocks  till  daybreak." 

The  old  man  crept  to  his  bundles  of  sticks,  and  slipped 
them  here  and  there  under  the  most  distant  tents,  lighting  the 
end  of  a  match  which  projected  from  each.  Manwhile  Has- 
san had  pacified  the  two  chiefs  by  dint  of  persuasions  and 
promises.  Kara  Shitan  delightedly  thrust  in  his  girdle  a  mag- 


Abdullah;  or,  The  Four-feaved  Clove*.     297 

nificent  sabre,  which  Mohammed  eyed  with  regret.  "  Well," 
said  he,  "  since  I  have  bought  the  sultana,  give  her  to  me." 

"  It  is  just,"  said  the  graybeard.  He  called  the  stranger, 
the  curtain  rose,  and  a  veiled  woman  came  forth,  wrapped  in 
an  Egyptian  mantle.  The  young  Arnaut  approached  her,  and 
said,  in  a  softened  voice,  "  Madam,  war  has  its  rights ;  you  no 
longer  belong  to  the  sherif,  but  to  me ;  I  have  bought  you 
with  my  gold  ;  if  necessary,  I  would  have  bought  you  with  my 
blood." 

"  It  is  a  dear  bargain,"  said  a  mocking  voice  which  made 
Abdallah  start. 

"  Beauty  is  above  all  price,"  said  Mohammed.  "  What 
treasure  could  pay  for  your  charms  ?" 

"  Two  purses  would  be  enough,"  replied  the  veiled  lady. 

"  Madam,  that  was  not  the  opinion  of  the  sherif.  I  am  sure 
that  the  Commander  of  the  Faithful  wrould  give  half  his  wealth 
to  be  in  my  place,  with  the  beautiful  Egyptian  by  his  side." 

"  If  the  caravan  is  still  on  its  way,  the  beautiful  Egyptian 
will  be  at  Taif  to-morrow,"  returned  the  stranger. 

"  Who  are  you,  then  ?"  asked  Mohammed.  For  the  answer, 
the  veil  fell,  and  showed  the  ebony  face  and  white  teeth  of 
Cafour.  The  negress  made  so  strange  a  figure  that  the  old 
Arnaut  could  not  help  bursting  into  a  laugh,  which  raised  to 
its  height  the  fury  of  his  companion. 

"  Woe  to  him  who  has  trifled  with  me !"  cried  Mohammed, 
looking  at  Kara  Shitan ;  "  he  shall  pay  me  sooner  or  later. 
As  for  you,  dog,  you  shall  carry  it  no  farther."  And,  blind 
with  rage,  he  drew  a  pistol  and  fired  at  the  child.  The  ne- 
gress staggered,  uttering  a  cry  of  pain  and  terror.  At  the 
same  instant  a  shot  was  heard,  and  Mohammed  reeled  and 
fell.  Abdallah  was  in  the  tent  with  a  pistol  in  his  hand. 

"  To  arms  !"  cried  the  chiefs,  putting  their  hand  to  their  belt 
Swifter  than  lightning,  Cafour  overturned  the  table  and  lamp 

N  2 


298 


Fairy  Book. 


with  her  foot,  and  Abdallah  felt  a  little  hand  grasp  his  and 
draw  him  to  the  back  of  the  tent.  To  enter  the  women's 
apartments  and  lift  a  corner  of  the  canvas  was  an  easy  thing 
for  Cafour,  who  seemed  to  see  in  the  dark.  Once  outside, 
Abdallah  took  the  child  in  his  arms  and  fled  to  the  desert. 

The  voice  of  the  chiefs  had  roused  the  whole  band,  but  on 
rushing  into  the  tent  they  could  find  no  one.  "  To  horse  !" 
cried  Hassan  ;  "  dead  or  alive,  the  traitor  shall  not  escape  us." 

All  at  once  a  burning  torch  fell  in  the  midst  of  the  brush. 
The  frightened  horses  rushed  into  the  plain,  and  at  the  same 
time  the  cry  of  fire  was  raised.  The  conflagration  spread  in 
every  direction,  while  at  a  distance  shots  were  fired  at  the 
sentinels.  "  Come,  my  children,"  said  the  captain,  "  it  is  an 
attack ;  the  enemy  is  at  hand.  Forward  !" 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     299 

Hassan  had  his  ear  to  the  ground.  "  Allah  is  great ;  Ab- 
dallah is  saved !"  he  exclaimed,  when  he  heard  the  enemy 
coming  toward  him.  He  plunged  into  a  thicket  and  waited 
for  the  Arnauts  to  pass ;  then,  leaping  upon  a  stray  horse,  he 
galloped  into  the  desert,  without  troubling  himself  about  the 
balls  that  whistled  round  him. 


XVIIL 

THE   SILVER    LEAF. 

ABDALLAH  ran  with  his  burden  to  the  rock  where  he  had 
tethered  the  horses.  He  seated  Cafour  before  him  on  the 
saddle,  and  gave  full  rein  to  Hamama,  who  flew  over  the 
ground,  followed  by  the  horse  of  Hafiz.  An  hour  passed  be- 
fore the  son  of  Yusuf  dared  stop  to  listen.  Becoming  more 
tranquil  in  proportion  as  he  advanced,  he  at  last  slackened 
his  speed,  and  tried  to  steer  his  course  in  the  darkness  toward 
the  place  where  he  was  to  meet  his  uncle. 

During  this  rapid  flight  Cafour  had  remained  mute  and 
motionless,  pressed  close  to  Abdallah.  When  she  understood 
that  the  danger  was  passed,  she  called  him  her  savior.  "Were 
you  too  a  prisoner  ?"  she  whispered. 

"  No,  thank  God,"  answered  Abdallah. 

"Then  why  did  you  come  among  the  tents  of  your  enemies?" 

"  Why  ?"  said  the  son  of  Yusuf,  smiling ;  "  to  save  you,  of 
course." 

The  answer  surprised  Cafour.  She  mused  for  some  time. 
"  Why  did  you  wish  to  save  me  ?"  she  said. 

"  Because  you  had  been  confided  to  my  keeping." 

"  Keep  me  always,  Abdallah ;  no  one  will  protect  me  like 
you." 

"I  am  not  your  master,"  answered  the  young  chief;  "you 
belong  to  Leila." 


300  Fairy  Book. 

Cafour  sighed  and  said  no  more.  On  reaching  the  Red 
Rocks,  Abdallah  lifted  her  from  the  saddle.  She  uttered  a 
cry;  which  she  instantly  smothered.  "  It  is  nothing,  master ; 
I  am  wounded,"  she  whispered,  and  she  stretched  out  her 
bleeding  arm.  The  ball  had  grazed  the  shoulder,  tearing  the 
flesh.  Abdallah  examined  the  wound  by  the  light  of  the 
stars,  then  sponged  and  bandaged  it,  while  Cafour  looked  at 
him  with  astonishment. 

"  Since  I  do  not  belong  to  you,  why  do  you  bind  up  my 
wound  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Silence,  heathen  !  you  know  not  the  words  of  the  Book  of 
Truth  :  '  Serve  God,  and  associate  no  creature  with  him ;  show 
kindness  unto  parents,  and  relations,  and  orphans,  and  the 
poor,  and  your  neighbor  who  is  of  kin  to  you,  and  also  your 
neighbor  who  is  a  stranger,  and  to  your  familiar  companion, 
and  the  traveler,  and  the  captives  whom  your  right  hands 
shall  possess ;  for  God  loveth  neither  pride,  nor  vanity,  nor 
avarice.' " 

"  That  is  beautiful/'  said  Cafour ;  "  it  was  a  great  God  who 
said  it." 

"  Hush,  and  go  to  sleep,"  interrupted  the  young  man  ;  "  the 
road  will  be  long  to-morrow,  and  you  need  rest."  As  he 
spoke,  Abdallah  took  the  child  on  his  lap,  and,  wrapping  her 
in  his  burnous,  supported  her  head  with  his  arm.  Cafour 
soon  fell  asleep.  At  first  she  tossed  about  and  talked  in  her 
sleep,  while  her  heart  beat  so  loudly  that  Abdallah  could  hear 
it.  By  degrees  she  grew  calmer,  her  limbs  relaxed,  and  she 
slept  so  sweetly  that  she  could  hardly  be  heard  to  breathe. 
The  soldier  gently  rocked  the  young  girl  whom  the  fate  of 
war  had  given  him  for  a  day,  thinking,  as  he  gazed  on  her,  of 
his  mother  and  all  that  she  had  suffered  for  him.  He  re- 
mained thus  through  the  night,  enjoying  a  peace  to  which  he 
had  before  been  a  stranger.  A  deep  silence  reigned  around 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     301 

him  on  the  earth ;  not  a  breath  of  wind  or  a  sound  was  stir- 
ring ;  in  the  heavens  all  was  motionless  save  that  luminous 
army  which  for  centuries  has  obeyed  the  command  of  the 
Eternal.  This  repose  of  all  things  refreshed  Abdallah's  soul, 
and  he  forgot  both  the  dangers  of  the  day  and  the  anxiety  of 
the  morrow. 

A  faint  streak  of  light  in  the  horizon  had  scarcely  an- 
nounced the  dawn,  when  the  cry  of  a  jackal  was  heard  in  the 
distance.  The  sound  was  thrice  repeated.  Abdallah  echoed 
it.  His  cry  was  answered,  and  a  panting  horse  bounded  to 
the  rock — Hafiz  was  safe. 

"  Well,  nephew,"  said  he,  laughing,  "  the  trick  has  succeed- 
ed ;  they  are  smoked  out  like  so  many  rats.  Forward !  we 
must  not  make  them  wait  for  us  at  Taif." 

A  red  light  streaked  the  east.  Abdallah  spread  the  carpet 
of  prayer,  and  the  two  comrades,  with  their  faces  turned  to- 
ward Mecca,  thanked  the  All-Powerful  who  had  rescued  them 
from  peril. 

"  Abdallah,"  said  Cafour,  falling  on  her  knees  before  her 
savior,  "you  are  my  god  ;  I  will  worship  no  other." 

"  Silence,  heathen  !"  cried  the  son  of  Yusuf.  "  There  is  but 
one  God,  who  has  no  associate — the  Eternal,  the  Incompara- 
ble ;  it  is  he  whom  you  must  worship  and  adore." 

"Then  your  God  shall  be  my  God,"  said  Cafour.  " I  will 
not  have  a  god  that  leaves  me  to  be  murdered." 

"  Your  god,"  said  Abdallah,  "  is  deaf,  dumb,  and  blind  ;  it 
is  some  piece  of  wood  rotting  in  the  Maghreb." 

"  No,"  interrupted  the  child, "  my  god  was  with  me,  and  did 
not  help  me.  Here,"  she  added,  taking  from  her  hair  a  tuft 
of  feathers, "  take  it ;  break  it  in  pieces  ;  I  want  it  no  longer." 

"  Is  that  bunch  of  feathers  your  god  ?"  said  Hafiz,  smiling. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  child,  "  it  is  the  god  my  mother  gave 
me  when  she  sold  me.  It  is  pretty  ;  look  at  it."  And,  pull- 


3O2 

ing  out  and  breaking  the  feathers  while  she  loaded  them  with 
reproaches,  she  took  from  the  bunch  a  thin  piece  of  silver, 
which  she  gave  to  Abdallah. 

j'  My  uncle,"  cried  the  latter,  in  a  transport  of  joy,  "  see 
what  has  come  to  us  from  the  Maghreb !  God  has  sent  us 
the  clover-leaf.  You  have  saved  me,  my  uncle.  Glory  and 
gratitude  to  God !" 

And  the  two  friends,  intoxicated  with  joy,  embraced  the 
child,  who,  not  understanding  their  caresses,  gazed  at  them 
with  tears  in  her  eyes,  astonished  and  happy  at  feeling  her- 
self beloved. 


XIX. 

THE     SECRET. 

WHEN  the  two  friends  at  last  perceived  the  caravan  wind- 
ing like  a  huge  serpent  in  the  distance,  night  was  approach- 
ing ;  the  last  beams  of  the  sun  shone  on  the  white  houses  of 
Taif,  gleaming  amid  the  gardens  like  eglantines  in  a  thicket. 
They  were  quitting  the  empire  of  the  sands ;  the  peril  was 
overcome  and  the  journey  finished.  At  the  sight  of  Taif,  Ab- 
dallah was  seized  with  bitter  sorrow.  Restless,  troubled,  be- 
reft of  his  reason,  one  thought  filled  his  soul — Leila  was  lost 
to  him.  The  Bedouins  received  their  companions  with  cries 
of  joy.  Omar  embraced  his  brother  with  the  greatest  tender- 
ness. Abdallah  remained  cold  to  all  these  caresses  ;  his  only 
emotion  was  on  parting  with  Cafour.  The  poor  girl  threw 
herself  into  her  savior's  arms,  and  nothing  could  tear  her 
from  them,  until  at  last  Abdallah  was  forced  harshly  to  com- 
mand her  to  return  to  her  mistress.  She  departed  in  tears. 
The  son  of  Yusuf  fixed  a  longing  gaze  on  her ;  he  had  broken 
the  last  link  that  bound  him  to  Leila. 

Cafour  was  approaching  the  litter  when  Omar  called  to  her, 


Abdullah;  or,  The  Four- leaved  Clover.     303 

,  showing  her  two  articles  which  he  held  in  his  hand.  "  Come 
hither,  child  of  Satan,"  he  said,  in  a  half-jeering,  half-threaten- 
ing tone ;  "  what  is  the  difference  betwen  this  whip  and  this 
necklace  of  five  strings  of  pearls  ?" 

"  The  same  difference  that  there  is  between  your  brother 
and  you,"  answered  the  negress.  "  One  is  as  beautiful  as  tht, 
rainbow  ;;  the  other  is  fit  for  nothing  but  to  kindle  the  fires  of 
the  pit." 

"  You  have  your  father's  wit,"  returned  Omar,  calmly ;  "  it 
will  not  be  hard,  therefore,  for  you  to  choose.  Do  you  want 
the  necklace  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  the  negress,  with  sparkling  eyes.  "  What 
am  I  to  do  for  it  ?" 

"  Very  little.  In  an  hour  you  will  be  in  the  harem  ;  every 
one  will  wish  to  see  you,  and  nothing  will  be  easier  than  for 
you  to  gain  admittance  to  the  sherif 's  wife,  the  Sultana  Fati- 
ma.  Repeat  to  her,  word  for  word,  what  I  shall  tell  you,  and 
the  necklace  is  yours." 

"  Give  it  to  me,"  said  Cafour,  stretching  out  her  hand ;  "  I 
am  listening." 

"While  you  are  amusing  the  sultana  with  your  ape's  face 
and  kittenish  grimaces,  whisper  to  her,  *  Mistress,  I  have  a 
message  to  you  from  a  friend.  "  Moon  of  May,"  he  says,  "  a 
new  moon  is  approaching.  If  you  do  not  wish  her  to  dis- 
turb the  serenity  of  your  nights,  keep  the  sun  in  the  sign  of 
Gemini.  Importune,  urge,  and  command.  Take  for  your 
motto,  Love  is  like  madness  ;  every  thing  is  forgiven  it."  ' 

"  Repeat  the  last  sentence,"  said  Cafour.  "  Good ;  I  know 
it  now:  'Love  is  like  madness;  every  thing  is  forgiven  it.' 
The  sultana  shall  have  your  message.  One  word  only :  can 
these  words  do  any  harm  to  your  brother  ?" 

"  None,"  replied  the  son  of  Mansour,  suppressing  a  smile. 
••  Abdallah  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  it ;  he  is  threat 


304  Fairy  Book. 

ened  by  no  danger ;  and  even  if  he  were  in  peril,  these  words 
would  insure  his  safety.  Farewell ;  speak  of  this  to  no  one  • 
and  if  you  obey  me,  rely  on  my  generosity.  The  date  is  ripe, 
who  will  gather  it  ?"  he  added  to  himself.  "  I  am  rid  of  the 
handsome  Abdallah ;  it  remains  for  me  now  to  second  the 
sultana's  jealousy  and  add  to  the  enemies  of  the  sherif.  The 
game  is  not  without  danger ;  but,  cost  what  it  may,  Leila 
must  quit  the  harem ;  once  outside  of  it,  she  is  mine." 

On  rejoining  her  mistress,  Cafour  was  surprised  to  see  her 
pale  and  haggard,  her  eyes  glittering  with  fever.  "  What  is 
the  matter  ?"  said  the  child.  "  Are  you  weeping  when  your 
happiness  is  about  to  begin  ?  when  you  will  have  four  slaves 
to  wait  on  you,  robes  of  velvet  and  satin,  Cashmere  scarfs,  slip- 
pers embroidered  with  gold  and  pearls,  enamel  necklaces,  dia- 
mond tiaras,  and  ruby  and  sapphire  bracelets  ?  What  more 
can  a  woman  desire  ?  You  were  so  happy  at  coming  here  on 
quitting  Egypt,  why  have  you  changed  ?" 

"  You  can  not  understand  me — you  are  only  a  child,"  said 
Leila,  in  a  languishing  voice. 

"  I  am  no  longer  a  child,  mistress,"  returned  the  negress. 
"  I  am  almost  twelve  years  old ;  I  am  a  woman ;  you  can  trust 
in  me." 

"  Ah  !  my  poor  Cafour,"  cried  the  Egyptian,  sighing, "  if  you 
would  preserve  your  heart,  keep  your  eyes  shut.  Why  did  I 
see  that  handsome  young  man  ?  Had  it  not  been  for  him,  I 
should  have  joyfully  entered  the  harem ;  now  I  shall  be  there 
like  the  dead  among  the  living." 

"  Do  you  love  Abdallah,  then  ?"  asked  the  child,  touched  by 
this  confidence. 

"  Do  I  love  him  ?  Is  it  possible  to  see  him  without  loving 
him?  Is  there  a  more  beautiful  face  than  his  in  Paradise? 
His  look  is  so  gracious,  his  voice  so  sweet,  his  very  name  is 
perfume !  Do  I  love  him  ?  Awake,  my  soul  lives  for  him 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     305 

alone ;  asleep,  my  heart  wakes  and  languishes  with  love ! 
Would  to  God  that  I  had  been  born  amid  the  tents,  with  this 
Bedouin  for  my  brother,  that  I  might  cast  myself  into  his  arms 
with  none  to  despise  me  !" 

"  Go  with  him,"  said  Cafour.  "  I  will  tell  him  to  carry  you 
off." 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of?  I  am  a  slave  ;  I  have  a  mas- 
ter. Besides,  do  you  think  that  Abdallah  would  ever  break 
his  word?  He  is  taking  me  to  the  sherif;  would  you  have 
him  betray  his  faith  ?" 

"Then  tell  the  sherif  to  give  you  Abdallah  for  a  husband." 
"  Hush,  idiot.    Such  a  request  would  be  the  death-sentence 
of  us  all." 

Cafour  musingly  repeated  to  herself  Omar's  message ;  then, 
looking  at  Leila,  "  Mistress,"  said  she,  "  if  you  should  become 
Abdallah's  wife,  and  go  to  dwell  with  him  amid  the  tents, 
would  you  keep  me  with  you  ?" 

"  Always,  child.     I  love  you  ;  you  shall  never  quit  me." 
"  Should  I  be  your  slave  and  Abdallah's  all  my  life  ?" 
"  Of  course.     But  of  what  use  is  such  a  question  ?" 
"  Swear  this  to  me,"  returned  Cafour,  in  a  solemn  voice, 
"  and  let  me  alone.    Do  not  question  me  ;  do  not  shake  your 
head  with  disdain.    What  do  you  risk  in  swearing  what  I  ask  ? 
Would  you  sell  me  or  send  me  away  ?" 

"  No,  indeed.  Should  it  please  God  for  me  to  become 
the  wife  of  him  whom  I  love  like  my  own  soul,  you  shall  al- 
ways remain  with  us ;  I  swear  it  to  you  in  the  name  of  God, 
the  clement,  the  merciful,  the  sovereign  of  the  worlds — " 

"  My  mistress,  I  am  an  ignorant  heathen ;  swear  it  to  me 
only  by  the  God  of  Abdallah." 

Talking  thus,  the  two  friends  reached  the  harem,  where 
numerous  companions  awaited  them.  Cafour,  still  laughing, 
leaped  from  the  palanquin  and  ran  toward  a  large  room,  bril- 


306  Fairy  Book. 

liantly  lighted,  and  filled  with  tables  covered  with  silver  and 
flowers.-  Leila  complained  of  the  fatigue  of  the  journey,  and 
retired  to  her  chamber  to  weep  without  restraint.  Useless 
grief,  powerless  remedy  for  an  ill  that  could  not  be  cured ! 
"  He  who  is  intoxicated  with  wine,"  says  the  sage  of  Shiraz, 
"  awakens  during  the  night ;  he  who  is  intoxicated  with  love 
awakens  only  on  the  morning  of  the  resurrection !" 


XX. 

THE   PATIENCE   OF    REYNARD. 

ABDALLAH  wished  to  set  out  the  same  evening,  and  Hafiz 
was  not  less  impatient.  It  seemed  to  him  that  by  fleeing  to 
the  desert,  his  nephew  would  leave  anxiety  and  sorrow  behind 
him.  But  the  sherif  had  announced  that  he  would  receive  the 
chiefs  of  the  caravan  the  next  day,  and  it  was  impossible  to 
decline  the  honor. 

At  an  early  hour  they  repaired  to  the  palace.  The  court- 
yard was  full  of  Bedouins,  dressed  in  their  blue  robes  set  off 
by  a  scarlet  scarf  thrown  across  the  shoulder.  All  wished  to 
shake  hands  with  the  brave  Abdallah  and  the  prudent  Hafiz. 
Omar  talked  in  a  low  voice  with  the  old  shepherd  ;  for  the  first 
time  he  complained  of  the  dangers  of  the  road ;  for  the  first 
time  he  reproached  the  sherif  for  having  exposed  so  many 
brave  men  to  almost  certain  death.  Hafiz  approved  his  words, 
and  seconded  them  with  a  warmth  which  delighted  the  son 
of  Mansour. 

The  visiters  were  led  by  black  slaves  into  a  room  covered 
with  rich  carpets,  and  surrounded  with  divans  of  green  silk 
embroidered  with  gold.  The  walls  were  bare  of  all  ornament 
except  a  beautiful  Turkish  sabre,  set  with  topazes  and  rubies, 
a  gift  from  the  sultan.  Omar  pointed  it  out  to  Hafiz,  who, 
while  murmuring  against  what  he  called  a  weakness,  never- 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     307 

theless  bowed  respectfully  before  the  Commander  of  the  Faith- 
ful. After  receiving  the  salutations  of  all  the  band,  the  sherif 
clapped  his  hands,  and  pipes  and  coffee  were  instantly  served. 
The  Bedouins  seated  themselves  on  the  ground,  and  each 
smoked  in  silence.  Abdallah  started ;  among  the  crowd  of 
servants  who  stood  awaiting  their  master's  orders,  he  had  just 
seen  Cafour,  who  raised  her  hand  to  her  throat.  Whether  it 
was  to  him  or  to  some  other  that  the  child  made  the  sign, 
he  could  not  guess ;  no  one  raised  his  eyes,  least  of  all 
Omar. 

The  descendant  of  the  Prophet  seemed  buried  in  deep  re- 
flection. He  was  a  noble-looking  old  man,  whose  white  beard, 
large  nose,  and  calm  eyes  gave  him  an  air  of  majesty.  A  large 
turban,  a  blue  robe  of  the  finest  Cashmere,  and  a  girdle  of  gold 
and  purple,  in  which  glittered  a  dagger  covered  with  precious 
stones,  added  to  his  dignity.  At  heart,  the  sherif  was  a  sage 
who  thought  of  no  one  but  himself.  Intractable  toward  all  who 
disturbed  his  peace,  he  was  the  gentlest  of  mankind  when  his 
passions  and  habits  were  let  alone.  Power  had  not  spoiled 
him ;  he  readily  listened  to  the  truth  when  it  did  not  affect 
himself,  and  suffered  without  complaint  the  most  shameless 
falsehoods  of  his  flatterers  and  servants.  Fastidious,  a  great 
lover  of  stories,  and  a  refined  poet,  his  only  weakness — a  weak- 
ness natural  to  his  age — was  the  desire  to  be  loved.  Thanks 
to  this  secret,  which  she  had  learned  the  very  first  day,  the 
beautiful  Fatima  had  made  her  master  the  most  obedient  of 
slaves  j  she  made  him  submit  to  all  her  fancies  by  telling  him 
that  a  woman's  caprices  are  the  proof  of  her  love.  At  sixty 
it  is  easier  to  believe  than  to  quarrel,  and  the  sherif  yielded  to 
avoid  a  storm,  too  happy  when  he  was  rewarded  with  a  caress. 
This  morning,  however,  there  was  not  a  cloud  on  the  horizon. 
The  Commander  of  the  Faithful  seemed  in  excellent  humor ; 
he  smiled  as  he  ran  his  fingers  through  his  long  beard,  and 


308  Fairy  Book, 

looked  like  a  man  just  waking  from  a  blissful  dream  which  he 
would  fain  retain. 

The  second  pipe  finished,  the  sherif  took  up  the  conversa- 
tion, and  in  the  most  gracious  terms  thanked  the  Bedouins 
and  Omar  for  their  visit  and  their  services.  Instead  of  re- 
plying to  this  courtesy,  the  son  of  Mansour  started  up  like  a 
criminal  struck  with  terror,  and,  prostrating  himself  before  the 
descendant  of  the  Prophet,  kissed  his  feet. 

"  Son  of  Ali  and  of  Hassan,"  said  he,  in  a  broken  voice, "  I 
know  what  the  slave  deserves  who  suffers  his  master's  trust 
to  be  violated.  I  know  my  crime,  and  await  without  com- 
plaint the  punishment  reserved  for  me  by  your  justice." 

"  Rise,"  said  the  sherif,  kindly.  "  What  is  written  is  written. 
God  sends  disaster  and  success  by  turns  to  men,  in  order  that 
he  may  know  the  believers,  and  choose  his  witnesses  from 
among  you.  As  to  the  insult  offered  me  by  those  wretches, 
I  shall  choose  the  day  and  hour  for  reparation.  Patience — 
with  patience  every  thing  comes  in  due  season." 

"  Alas  !"  continued  the  son  of  Mansour,  still  on  his  knees, 
"  the  attack  was  nothing ;  my  brother  Abdallah  and  his  brave 
Bedouins  repulsed  the  traitors.  But  we  were  surprised ;  the 
slave  was  for  a  moment  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy ;  those 
men  without  faith  and  honor  tore  off  her  veil,  and  profaned 
with  their  uiiv/orthy  looks  that  beauty  which  should  have  been 
sacred  from  ail"" 

"  Enough !"  interrupted  the  sherif,  displeased  at  this  tale. 
"The  care  of  my  honor  concerns  me  alone.  Patience  !" 

"  Patience  !"  exclaimed  Hafiz  ;  "  that  was  what  the  fox  said 
when  he  feigned  death." 

"  What  was  it  that  the  fox  said  ?"  asked  the  sherif,  looking 
sternly  at  Hafiz,  who  seemed  moved  by  any  other  feeling  than 
that  of  fear. 

"There  was  once  a  fox  who  was  growing  old,"  said  the 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     309 

Bedouin,  "  and  who  abandoned  the  chase  and  all  adventures 
in  order  every  night  to  visit  a  poultry-yard  near  his  hole,  where 
he  grew  fat  without  trouble  or  danger.  One  night  he  forgot 
how  the  time  was  passing,  and  when  he  was  ready  to  go  out,  he 
found  the  sun  risen  and  every  one  at  work.  To  return  safe- 
ly seemed  impossible ;  so,  in  order  not  to  brave  certain  dan- 
ger, he  stretched  himself  by  the  roadside  and  pretended  to  be 
dead,  saying,  '  Patience  —  in  patience  there  is  safety.'  The 
first  who  passed  by  paid  no  attention  to  him.  The  second 
turned  him  over  with  his  foot  to  be  sure  that  he  was  dead. 
The  third  was  a  child,  who  amused  himself  by  pulling  out  his 
whiskers.  '  Patience !'  said  the  fox.  '  The  child  knows  not 
what  he  is  doing ;  he  does  not  mean  to  insult  me.  It  is  bet- 
ter to  suffer  vexation  than  to  run  the  risk  of  death.'  Next 
came  a  hunter  with  a  gun  on  his  shoulder.  '  A  fox's  nail  is  a 
sovereign  remedy  for  a  felon,'  said  he,  taking  out  his  knife. 
'  Patience  !'  said  the  fox ;  '  it  is  better  to  live  with  three  paws 
than  to  die  with  four ;'  and  he  let  himself  be  mutilated  with- 
out stirring.  Next  came  a  woman  with  a  child  on  her  shoul- 
der. 'This  fox's  teeth  will  make  a  necklace  that  will  pre- 
serve my  babe  from  the  evil  eye,'  said  she." 

"I  know  the  story,"  interrupted  the  sherif;  "when  the 
mother  came  near,  the  fox  flew  in  her  face." 

"My  story  does  not  say  so,"  returned  Hafiz,  gravely. 
"  When  once  we  compound  with  our  courage,  we  know  not 
where  to  stop.  The  fox  let  himself  be  robbed  of  his  teeth, 
repeating  *  Patience  !'  and  lay  still  till  a  last  thief  tore  out  his 
heart,  when  he  saw,  but  too  late,  that  patience  is  the  surest  of 
dangers." 

"  I  begin  to  think  so,"  said  the  sherif,  "  since  a  Bedouin 
comes  to  my  palace  to  tell  me  his  foolish  stories.  A  shep- 
herd must  be  rude  indeed  not  to  understand  my  indulgence 
and  to  insult  my  goodness.  If  the  caravan  was  attacked 


3io  Fairy  Book. 

in  a  safe  country  traversed  by  all  the  merchants,  whose  fault 
was  it  except  those  who  chose  for  their  leader  a  child  whom  I 
spare  through  pity?  A  dozen  armed  and  resolute  Bedouins 
always  cross  the  desert  without  any  one  daring  to  attack  them. 
If  the  Arnauts  surprised  you,  a  snare  must  have  been  laid  for 
you,  into  which  you  fell  either  through  folly  or  treachery." 

"  My  lord,"  cried  the  son  of  Mansour,  raising  his  hands  in 
supplication,  "  you  speak  truly ;  this  was  my  fault.  In  choos- 
ing my  brother  and  friend  for  the  leader  of  the  caravan,  I 
ought  to  have  remembered  that  at  our  age  passion  renders  us 
blind.  Chance  destroyed  us.  At  the  beginning  of  the  jour- 
ney the  sight  of  the  slave  troubled  the  young  man,  and  made 
him  forget  his  prudence." 

"What  do  I  hear?"  cried  the  sherif,  with  flashing  eyes. 
"  Is  this  the  way  that  I  am  obeyed — is  this  the  way  that  I  am 
respected  ?  Woe  to  him  who  has  trifled  with  me  !  He  shall 
see  whether  I  will  submit  to  insult.  Merchant,  you  shall  be 
punished  for  your  imprudence,  and,  young  man,  you  shall  suf- 
fer for  your  folly."  And,  calling  a  negro  with  a  large  sabre  at 
his  side,  the  Commander  of  the  Faithful  pointed  to  Omar  and 
Abdallah,  making  a  horizontal  movement  with  his  hand.  It 
was  the  sentence  of  death. 

The  Bedouins  looked  at  each  other,  shuddering,  but  no  one, 
not  even  Hafiz,  dared  rebel  against  the  descendant  of  the 
Prophet.  Omar  heard  the  sentence  without  changing  counte- 
nance ;  he  looked  around  him  as  if  to  implore  aid,  and,  rais- 
ing his  hand,  made  a  sign  to  the  negress  which  she  did  not 
seem  to  comprehend.  The  son  of  Mansour  frowned  angrily. 
"  Accursed  be  the  dervish,"  murmured  he.  "  Can  he  have 
told  the  truth?  Is  my  confidence  in  the  Bedouin  about  to 
plunge  me  into  this  ruin?  Can  I  have  loved  this  madman 
better  than  I  thought  ?" 

Abdallah  raised  his  eyes,  and  proudly  smiled  at  the  execu 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.    311 

tioner.  "  Poor  child,"  said  Hafiz,  embracing  his  nephew,  "  I 
have  slain  you." 

"  No,  my  father,"  replied  the  )t>ung  man,  calmly,  "  it  is 
God  that  gives  life  and  death.  Be  resigned,  and  comfort  my 
mother.  Do  not  pity  me ;  to  me  death  is  better  than  life." 
Then,  turning  to  Omar,  who  still  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
negress,  he  gave  him  his  hand.  "  My  brother,  pardon  me," 
said  he,  "  in  the  name  of  her  who  watched  over  your  child- 
hood." And,  bowing  respectfully  to  the  Commander  of  the 
Faithful,  he  followed  the  executioner. 

"  Stop !"  cried  Cafour,  falling  at  the  sherif  s  feet.  "  It  was 
my  fault ;  it  was  I  that  snatched  off  my  mistress's  veil.  Kill 
me,  but  spare  Abdallah." 

"  Drive  off  this  daughter  of  a  dog,  and  punish  her  till  she  is 
silent,"  said  the  sherif. 

"  Pardon !"  cried  the  child,  as  a  negro  was  carrying  her  off 
— "pardon!"  and  with  a  desperate  effort  she  tore  herself 
from  the  slave,  leaving  a  piece  of  her  dress  in  his  hands. 
"  Pity !"  she  murmured,  clasping  the  knees  of  the  sherif,  who 
rudely  repulsed  her.  "  Pity,  master ;  Abdallah  is  innocent ; 
he  was  not  the  guilty  one."  Then,  suddenly  spying  Omar's 
contracted  features,  she  sprang  up  as  if  struck  with  lightning, 
and,  stretching  her  hands  toward  the  prince,  "  Do  not  be 
cruel,"  said  she.  "  Remember  that  love  is  like  madness ;  ev- 
ery thing  is  forgiven  it." 

"  Stop !"  cried  the  sherif  to  the  executioner.  "  There  is 
something  strange  in  this,"  thought  he ;  "  it  is  the  same  sen- 
tence that  Fatima  repeated  to  me  this  morning,  and  refused 
to  explain  to  me.  Come  here,  child,"  said  he  to  Cafour,  in  a 
milder  tone.  "Where  do  these  words  come  from — do  you 
know?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Cafour ;  "  they  come  from  lips  that  open  only 
for  consolation  and  pity." 


312  Fairy  Book. 

"  Do  you  know  the  meaning  of  them  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Cafour,  trembling  as  she  spoke.  "  Abdal- 
lah  has  never  heard  thelfe  words,  but  Omar  has  long  known 
the  secret  of  them ;  question  him ;  he  will  tell  you  every 
thing." 

"Oh,  my  master,"  cried  Omar,  dragging  himself  to  the 
sherif  s  feet,  and  speaking  in  a  suppressed  voice,  "  the  child 
is  right.  I  know  these  words  but  too  well ;  it  was  they  which 
caused  my  fault,  and  which  will  perhaps  excuse  it.  When 
you  summoned  me  to  Taif,  my  errand  was  suspected ;  before 
I  could  quit  your  palace,  a  mad  promise  was  wrung  from  me, 
which  I  have  only  too  faithfully  obeyed.  I  compromised  the 
slave  as  I  had  been  commanded.  Could  I  resist  a  will  pro- 
tected by  your  love  ?  Happy  is  he  who  can  inspire  such  ar- 
dent passion  ;  will  not  happiness  render  him  indulgent  ?" 

While  uttering  these  unblushing  falsehoods,  the  son  of  Man- 
sour  studied  the  sherif's  face,  which  resumed  its  serenity. 
Omar  soon  ceased  to  supplicate  the  old  man  who  held  his 
life  in  his  hands.  Sure  of  his  victory,  he  began  to  flatter  him 
beyond  measure,  and,  by  adroit  words,  gradually  soothed  the 
last  emotions  of  anger  in  his  soul. 

"  Rise  !  I  pardon  you,"  said  the  sherif,  at  length.  "  I  also 
pardon  this  proud  Bedouin,  who  braves  me  even  under  the 
sword  of  the  executioner.  I  have  shown  that  I  fear  no  one, 
and  that  I  know  how  to  punish  those  who  insult  me ;  it  is 
enough ;  I  keep  the  blood  of  my  faithful  followers  for  a  better 
occasion.  Young  man,"  he  added,  looking  at  Abdallah  with 
a  kindly  smile,  "  remember  that  henceforth  your  life  belongs 
to  me ;  I  rely  on  you,  as  well  as  your  friends,  to  avenge  our 
common  insult." 

Foe  his  sole  answer,  the  son  of  Yusuf  took  the  sherif's  hand 
and  kissed  it  with  emotion,  while  Hafiz  burst  into  transports 
of  joy  and  gratitude. 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.    313 

"  Here !"  said  the  Commander  of  the  Faithful,  calling  Ca- 
four ;  "  come  hither,  daughter  of  night ;  is  this  all  that  the  sul- 
tana told  you." 

"  No,"  answered  the  negress,  boldly,  putting  on  a  mysteri- 
ous air.  "  The  sultana  told  me  that  if  you  pardoned  her  her 
mad  love,  she  must  also  have  a  proof  of  your  affection." 

"  Speak,"  said  the  old  man ;  "  what  can  I  refuse  a  poor 
creature  that  loves  me  to  distraction  ?" 

"The  sultana  fears  that  you  will  refuse  her  request;  to 
grant  it,  she  says,  needs  a  love  as  great  as  her  own." 

"  Speak,"  said  the  sherif ;  "  I  am  dying  of  impatience." 

"  Well,  then,  do  not  give  her  for  a  rival  this  strange  woman, 
dishonored  by  the  gaze  of  the  Bedouins  and  Arnauts." 

"Is  that  all?"  replied  the  Commander  of  the  Faithful, 
smiling.  "  What !  raise  this  woman  to  my  throne,  after  all 
that  has  passed  ?  Never !  She  shall  remain  a  slave,  and  end 
her  days  in  a  corner  of  the  harem." 

"  That  is  not  what  the  sultana  means ;  she  is  anxious  and 
jealous.  What  she  desires  is  that  Leila  should  quit  the  pal- 
ace, never  more  to  return.  '  Let  my  husband,'  said  she, '  let 
the  beloved  of  my  soul  give  me  a  last  pledge  of  his  love. 
Can  he  not  leave  this  creature  to  those  who  brought  her  hith- 
er ?  It  will  be  easy  to  find  an  honorable  match  for  her  among 
the  Bedouins,  and  I  shall  be  left  alone  to  love  the  master  of 
my  life.' " 

"Oh,  the  weakness  of  women  !"  cried  the  descendant  of  the 
Prophet.  "  The  Koran  is  right  in  recommending  indulgence 
to  us  who  have  strength  and  sense.  This  jealousy  of  Fatima's 
is  madness,  at  which  I  should  blush  to  yield,  were  it  not  my 
pleasure  to  show  her  that  nothing  is  impossible  either  to  my 
power  or  my  love.  Bring  Leila  hither,  and  tell  the  sultana 
that  her  rival  shall  not  return  to  the  harem.  Such  is  my  will ; 
I  mean  that  all  shall  respect  it." 


314  Fairy  Book. 

And,  turning  to  the  Bedouins, "  My  friends,"  said  the  sherif, 
in  a  loud  voice,  "  I  make  you  the  judges  of  my  conduct.  What 
should  I  do  with  the  Egyptian  woman  whom  you  have  escort- 
ed hither?  Through  respect  for  myself,  I  can  not  take  her 
as  a  wife ;  through  respect  for  the  pacha,  I  can  not  keep  her 
as  a  slave.  This,  therefore,  is  what  I  propose  to  do  :  if  there 
is  any  one  among  you  who  is  willing  to  marry  a  foreigner,  I 
will  give  her  to  him  with  a  fitting  dowry,  otherwise  I  will 
marry  her  to  some  rich  merchant  of  Medina  or  Mecca." 

"  God  is  great !"  cried  the  son  of  Yusuf,  seizing  Hanz's  arm. 
"  We  will  look  no  farther  for  the  four-leaved  clover ;  it  is  here  ; 
it  is  mine  ;  I  have  found  happiness." 

"  Courage,  my  son,"  said  the  old  man ;  "  it  is  needed  even 
to  be  happy.  I  do  not  think,"  he  added,  looking  at  the  sherif, 
"  that  it  will  be  necessary  to  go  to  Mecca  to  marry  the  stran- 
ger.  If  a  husband  only  is  needed,  here  is  a  young  man  who 
will  yield  to  no  one  either  in  birth,  fortune,  or  courage." 

"  My  lord,"  said  Omar,  bowing  low  to  the  sherif,  "  I  should 
never  have  had  the  boldness  to  raise  my  eyes  to  a  woman  con- 
fided to  my  charge ;  but,  since  things  have  changed,  and  you 
permit  it,  I  venture  to  aspire  to  the  hand  of  Leila.  She  is  a 
slave  of  the  pacha ;  from  her  childhood  she  has  been  accus- 
tomed to  the  ease  and  luxury  of  the  harem  ;  on  coming  hither 
she  dreamed  of  a  fortune  which  has  escaped  her  grasp ;  who 
knows  whether  tent-life  will  not  seem  hard  to  her?  Wealth 
is  a  necessity  to  a  woman  that  has  always  lived  in  a  palace. 
I  entreat  your  lordship,  therefore,  to  give  the  stranger  to  the 
one  that  shall  offer  the  largest  dowry ;  it  will  be  a  last  mark 
of  kindness  to  her  who  owes  every  thing  to  your  goodness." 

"  The  request  is  just,"  said  the  sherif.  "  Bring  the  Egyptian 
hither.  Let  the  suitors  come  forward ;  I  will  hear  their  pro- 
posals." 

"  My  uncle,"  murmured  the  son  of  Yusuf,  "  I  am  lost !" 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     315 

"  At  last,"  said  Omar,  "  Leila  is  mine  !" 

Cafour  looked  at  the  two  brothers,  and  ran  to  the  harem. 


XXI. 

THE   AUCTION. 

WHILE  the  slaves  went  in  search  of  Leila,  Hafiz  approach- 
ed the  son  of  Mansour. 

"  Omar,"  said  he, "  listen  to  an  old  man  who  has  dandled 
you  on  his  knees.  It  is  said  that  you  are  richer  than  your 
father;  women  bow  before  your  fortune,  and  there  is  not  a 
merchant  in  Egypt  or  Syria  but  would  think  himself  honored 
by  your  alliance.  Nothing  fetters  your  desires.  Abdallah, 
on  the  contrary,  can  never  love  another  woman  ;  he  has  given 
his  heart  to  her  whom  he  has  saved.  Be  generous ;  pay  to- 
day the  debt  of  gratitude  by  making  your  brother  and  Halima 
happy." 

"  My  brother  is  a  selfish  fellow,"  answered  Omar ;  "  I  have 
suffered  too  much  through  him  already.  He  knows  that  I 
wish  this  Egyptian  woman ;  he  knows  that  I  will  have  her  at 
any  price  ;  what  does  he  expect  to  gain,  therefore,  by  declar- 
ing himself  my  rival  ?  If  I  should  lose  a  hundred  thousand 
piastres,  of  what  advantage  would  it  be  to  him  ?  Let  him  give 
up  Leila,  and  I  will  try  to  forget  that  this  very  day  he  has  put 
my  head  for  the  second  time  in  danger." 

"  It  is  well  for  you  that  you  are  a  Mussulman,"  said  Hafiz, 
"  otherwise  we  would  teach  you  before  the  day  was  over  that 
an  ounce  of  lead  weighs  more  than  all  your  gold ;  but  you 
have  not  succeeded  as  you  think,  and,  with  the  aid  of  God, 
we  will  confound  your  abominable  selfishness." 

Omar  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  went  to  meet  Leila.  She 
had  just  entered,  concealed  from  all  eyes  by  the  wrappings 
which  enveloped  her,  yet  it  seemed  to  poor  Abdallah  that  a 


316  Fairy  Book. 

fiery  glance  shot  from  the  thick  veil  which  he  could  scarce 
withstand.  Cafour  followed  her  mistress.  What  she  had  said 
to  the  sultana  none  could  tell,  but  she  had  on  her  neck  a  neck- 
lace of  pink  coral,  which  certainly  had  not  been  cut  for  a 
slave.  From  time  to  time  she  ran  to  a  latticed  balcony  which 
overlooked  the  room,  and  exchanged  mysterious  words  with 
invisible  figures.  The  whole  harem  was  there,  deeply  inter- 
ested in  the  fair  Leila,  and  perhaps  offering  up  prayers  for  the 
son  of  Yusuf. 

Abdallah  was  the  first  to  speak.  "  My  sole  fortune,"  said 
he,  "is  the  spring  which  I  have  discovered,  and  the  garden 
which  I  have  planted.  With  my  father's  arms  and  my  mare, 
these  are  my  only  possessions.  All  are  yours,  Leila,  if  you 
will  accept  my  heart  and  life." 

"They  are  not  worth  a  hundred  thousand  piastres,"  said 
Omar,  coldly.  "  Here  at  Taif  I  have  a  garden  of  orange- 
trees  where  the  sherif  sometimes  does  me  the  honor  to  take 
coffee.  This  garden  is  worth  more  than  two  hundred  thou- 
sand piastres ;  I  offer  it  to  Leila  in  pledge  for  a  like  sum  in 
jewels." 

"  Jewels !"  said  Hafiz ;  "  my  nephew  has  those  which  are 
as  rich  as  yours.  Here  is  a  casket  which  is  worth  all  your 
promises." 

To  the  general  astonishment,  the  old  shepherd,  aided  by 
Cafour,  opened  a  tortoise-shell  and  mother-of-pearl  casket, 
filled  with  ear-rings,  bracelets,  and  precious  stones.  Abdal- 
lah could  not  repress  a  cry.  Was  not  that  ruby  bracelet  the 
one  which  Leila  wore  on  her  arm  on  the  day  of  the  attack, 
and  was  not  that  coral  necklace  one  which  Cafour  had  just 
snatched  from  her  neck  ?  He  attempted  to  speak ;  a  gesture 
of  his  uncle  stopped  him. 

"  Beautiful  jewels  which  have  been  worn  already !"  said  the 
son  of  Mansour,  biting  his  lip.  "  I  do  not  ask  where  all  these 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     317 


spoils  of  women  come  from,  which  I  esteem  as  they  deserve ; 
but  my  generosity  shall  not  be  outdone.  I  offer  three  hund- 
red thousand  piastres." 

"  Promising  is  not  giving,"  interrupted  Hafiz  ;  "  something 
more  than  words  is  needed." 

For  his  sole  reply,  Omar  drew  a  pocket-book  from  his  gir- 
dle, and,  taking  from  it  several  papers,  handed  them  to  the 
sherif.  "  My  lord,"  said  he,  "  these  are  the  orders  which  you 
sent  me  some  months  ago,  and  which  are  already  filled.  Trjf  y 
are  worth  more  than  a  million  piastres  ;  will  your  lordship  re 
fuse  to  be  his  slave's  security  till  to-morrow  to  these  exacting 
Bedouins  ?" 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  desire,"  answered  the  sherif.  "  I  will 
be  your  security  for  a  hundred  thousand  piastres." 

"  If  this  sum  is  all  that  is  needed,"  said  one  of  the  Bed- 
ouins, "we  will  not  leave  a  companion  in  trouble,  and  will 
give  a  lesson  to  this  merchant  who  forgets  himself.  Here  are 
our  sabres ;  we  will  redeem  them  with  a  hundred  thousand 
piastres."  And,  taking  off  his  yataghan,  he  flung  it  at  the 


3i 8  Fairy  Book. 

sherif's  feet  with  a  contemptuous  glance  at  Omar,  while 
Hafiz  approached  to  do  the  same,  and  to  set  an  example  to 
the  rest  of  the  band. 

"Take  back  your  sabre,"  said  the  Commander  of  the  Faith- 
ful to  the  Bedouin.  "I  will  be  security  for  you  and  your 
friends.  God  forbid  that  I  should  see  you  disarmed  about 
me,  you  who  are  my  strength  and  my  glory.  Omar,"  he  add- 
ed, "  before  making  new  promises,  perhaps  you  would  do  well 
to  reflect.  Repentance  often  follows  satisfied  passion.  A  lost 
slave  can  be  replaced,  but  friends  lost  are  never  found  again." 

"  Commander  of  the  Faithful,"  proudly  rejoined  the  son  of 
Mansour,  "  it  was  on  the  faith  of  your  word  that  I  entered 
into  this  business,  and,  unless  you  command  me  to  stop,  I  will 
carry  it  through.  I  fear  no  one's  displeasure  but  yours.  And, 
to  put  an  end  at  once. to  this  wrangling,  I  offer  a  million  pi- 
astres ;  it  is  not  too  large  a  dowry  for  a  woman  whom  your 
lordship  has  honored  with  his  protection." 

"  Are  you  rich  enough  to  commit  such  follies  ?"  said  the  de- 
scendant of  the  Prophet.  "  I  shall  remember  it  on  the  first 
occasion." 

"  Command,  my  lord,"  returned  the  merchant ;  "  my  for- 
tune and  life  are  yours." 

1&  deep  silence  followed.  Leila,  who  had  remained  stand- 
ing, sunk  upon  a  divan ;  Abdallah  cast  down  his  head ;  and 
Hafiz  and  his  friends  threatened  Omar,  who  braved  them  with 
a  disdainful  air.  Cafour  began  to  gesticulate  in  a  strange 
manner  toward  the  balcony,  and  disappeared.  All  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  sherif,  who  evidently  hesitated. 

"  I  have  given  my  word,"  said  he  at  last,  slowly  addressing 
the  Bedouins ;  "  you  are  witnesses  that  every  thing  has  been 
done  in  an  impartial  manner.  This  merchant,  your  com- 
panion in  the  caravan,  offers  a  million  ;  the  slave,  therefore, 
must  belong  to  him,  if  none  of  you  offers  more." 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     319 

"Where  could  such  treasures  be  found  in  the  desert?" 
cried  Hafiz.  "  Souls  sold  to  Satan  alone  possess  this  infer- 
nal wealth.  As  for  us,  we  have  nothing  but  our  guns  and 
sabres  ;  may  the  day  come  when  their  value  will  be  felt !" 

"  You  forget  Abdallah's  jewels,"  said  Omar,  smiling. 

"  Ah !  my  brother,"  cried  the  son  of  Yusuf,  "  what  have  I 
done  that  you  should  treat  me  thus  ?  Ought  you  to  be  the 
one  to  plunge  a  dagger  into  my  breast  ?" 

"  What  is  this  ?"  asked  the  sherif  of  two  slaves  who  laid  a 
heavy  casket  of  chased  silver  at  the  feet  of  Abdallah. 

"  My  lord,  it  is  the  treasure  of  the  son  of  Yusuf,"  an- 
swered one  of  the  porters,  as  he  opened  the  casket  and  took 
up  handfuls  of  the  most  beautiful  precious  stones  ever  seen, 
which  at  the  first  glance  were  seen  to  be  worth  more  than  a 
million. 

"  It  is  strange,"  thought  the  sherif,  "  how  much  this  dia- 
mond tiara  and  these  topaz  bracelets  resemble  those  I  gave 
the  sultana.  Who  has  sent  you  ?"  he  asked  the  slave. 

"  My  lord,"  replied  the  negro,  bowing,  "  love  is  like  mad- 
ness  ;  all  things  are  forgiven  it."  And  he  went  out. 

Abdallah  thought  himself  the  sport  of  a  dream.  Omar 
turned  pale  with  rage.  "There  is  some  snare  here,"  mur- 
mured he  ;  "no  matter,  I  will  have  the  last  word.  I  will  give 
two  million  piastres,  if  necessary." 

Four  more  slaves,  heavily  laden  with  plate,  silver  lamps, 
and  chased  cups,  paused  like  the  first  before  Abdallah,  and 
laid  this  treasure  at  his  feet.  At  the  first  glance,  the  sherif 
recognized  a  magnificent  epergne,  the  ornament  of  his  harem, 
which  he  had  received  as  a  present  from  the  sultan,  and 
given,  not  without  regret,  to  Fatima,  the  day  after  a  quar- 
rel. 

"Who  can  have  given  orders  to  bring  all  these  treasures 
hither?"  he  cried. 


320  Fairy  Book. 

"  My  lord,"  replied  the  porters,  bowing,  "  love  is  like  mad 
ness ;  all  things  are  forgiven  it." 

"  Let  these  knaves  be  bastinadoed,"  said  the  Commandei 
of  the  Faithful ;  "  I  will  teach  them  to  answer  me  in  proverbs 
Who  sent  them?" 

"  My  lord,  it  was  Cafour,"  replied  one  of  the  slaves,  in  a 
tremulous  voice. 

"  Bring  that  child  of  the*devil  hither,"  said  the  sherif.  "  If 
she  is  let  alone  she  will  carry  off  my  whole  palace." 

The  four  slaves  had  not  quitted  the  room  when  six  more 
entered,  carrying  a  litter  heaped  with  the  most  costly  robes 
and  the  richest  stuffs.  At  the  head  of  the  procession  was  Ca- 
four, giving  orders  with  the  gravity  of  an  imaum.  The  sherif 
called  her,  and,  taking  her  by  the  ear,  "  Come  here,  wretch," 
said  he ;  "  once  for  all,  will  you  tell  me  the  meaning  of  these 
follies?" 

"  Love  is  like  madness ;  all  things  are  forgiven  it,-"  answered 
Cafour,  gravely. 

"Do  you  dare  to  mix  up  the  sultana  with  this  disorder?" 

"  The  sultana  is  there,"  rejoined  Cafour,  tranquilly  pointing 
to  the  balcony ;  "  she  has  seen  and  heard  every  thing ;  she 
knows  all,  and,"  she  added,  lowering  Tier  voice,  "  she  is  furi- 
ous." 

"  Furious  ?  and  at  what  ?"  cried  the  astounded  sherif. 

"  She  knows,"  continued  Cafour,  "  that  you  regret  having 
sacrificed  Leila ;  she  has  guessed  the  part  played  by  this  mer- 
chant, who  is  bidding  in  your  name ;  she  feels  that  passion 
alone  could  hurry  you  away  so  far  as  to  make  you  humble 
these  brave  Bedouins,  who  are  the  honor  of  your  empire. 
*  Since  he  loves  me  no  longer,'  she  said, '  I  want  no  more  of  his 
favors  ;  take  away  from  my  sight  the  jewels  which  he  has  given 
me,  and  the  robes  with  which  I  delighted  in  adorning  myself 
to  please  him.  Carry  all  to  Abdallah ;  let  him  contend  for 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     321 

me  to  the  last  moment.  If  the  master  of  my  soul  returns  to 
me,  what  need  have  I  of  riches  ?  if  he  abandons  me,  I  wish  to 
keep  nothing  but  the  memory  of  his  love.'  " 

The  sherif  looked  at  the  balcony  somewhat  ill-humoredly. 
He  fancied  that  he  spied  through  the  lattice  a  little  hand  tear- 
ing a  lace  handkerchief  in  pieces,  and  the  sound  of  tears  and 
stifled  sobs  made  him  cast  down  his  head.  That  instant  he 
became  conscious  that  the  friendship  of  the  Beni  Amurs  was 
worth  more  to  him  than  the  gratitude  of  Omar,  and  decided 
on  his  course. 

"  I  will  not  be  made  an  accomplice  of  unworthy  weakness- 
es," said  he,  in  a  solemn  voice.  "  I  never  take  back  a  promise 
which  I  have  made.  I  wished  to  secure  a  suitable  dowry  to 
this  woman,  who  is  under  my  protection  ;  a  hundred  thousand 
piastres  is  sufficient.  As  to  deciding  between  the  rivals,  that 
belongs  to  Leila.  Let  her  take  the  merchant  or  the  Bedouin, 
the  city  or  the  desert,  it  matters  little  to  me.  I  shall  respect 
her  choice,  and  force  all  others  to  do  the  same." 

"Neither  David  nor  Solomon  could  have  judged  more 
righteously,"  cried  Hafiz. 

The  two  brothers  stood  by  the  side  of  Leila.  Abdallah 
gazed  at  her  with  deep  tenderness,  and  was  mute  with  hope 
and  fear.  Omar  spoke,  moved  with  anger  and  jealousy. 

"  Think  of  the  future,"  said  he ;  "  do  not  sacrifice  to  this 
man  the  flower  of  your  youth  and  beauty.  Do  you  know  the 
life  of  women  in  the  tents? — a  beggarly  and  slavish  existence. 
Are  your  hands  made  to  grind  corn,  milk  sheep,  weave  cloth, 
and  gather  grass  and  sticks  ?  Will  this  Bedouin  give  you  the 
baths,  jewels,  and  perfumes  to  which  you  are  accustomed  ? 
Will  he  dye  your  eyebrows  and  eyelids?  will  he  wash  your 
tresses  with  orange-flower  water,  and  dry  them  with  musk  and 
amber  ?  With  me,  you  will  have  women  to  wait  on  you,  robes 
to  deck  you,  and  jewels  to  adorn  you ;  you  will  not  be  a  serv- 

O   2 


322  Fairy  Book. 

ant,  but  a  mistress ;  each  of  your  caprices  will  be  a  law  and  a 
pleasure  to  me." 

Leila  bowed,  took  the  trembling  hand  of  Abdallah,  and 
placed  it  on  her  head.  "  I  am  my  lord's  slave,"  she  said. 
"A  stranger,  I  have  no  other  refuge  than  he;  an  orphan,  I 
have  no  other  family.  He  is  my  father,  my  mother,  and  my 
brother.  Oh,  my  beloved,"  she  added,  in  a  low  voice,  raising 
her  eyes,  "  at  last  I  am  thine,  and  can  tell  thee  that  thou  art 
my  joy  and  my  life."  And,  smiling  and  weeping  at  the  same 
time,  she  kissed  the  hand  of  her  husband. 

The  Commander  of  the  Faithful  gazed  delightedly  at  this 
spectacle,  which  renewed  his  youth.  "  It  is  rather  a  hard  les- 
son for  Fatima,"  thought  he ;  "  but  I  am  not  sorry  for  having 
confounded  the  sultana ;  she  will  be  cured  for  some  time  of 
her  incurable  jealousy." 

Omar  was  mute ;  his  contracted  features,  his  threatening 
eyes,  every  thing  about  him  betrayed  the  conflict  of  grief  and 
pride. 

"  Son  of  Mansour,"  said  Hafiz,  "  you  should  marry  Cafour. 
Your  soul  is  as  black  as  her  skin ;  you  would  have  children 
worthy  of  their  grandfather  Satan." 

"  You  are  cruel,  my  uncle,"  exclaimed  the  son  of  Yusuf. 
"  If  Omar  had  been  in  my  place,  he  would  have  spared  us. 
My  brother,"  he  added,  extending  his  hand  to  the  Egyptian, 
"  forgive  me  my  happiness." 

"  You  are  shrewder  than  I ;  I  congratulate  you  on  your 
success,"  answered  Omar.  And  he  quitted  the  room  in  de- 
spair. 

"  What  a  fine  thing  is  youth !"  said  Hafiz ;  "  how  honest ! 
how  confiding !  what  faith  in  virtue  !  As  for  me,  I  am  old, 
and  have  been  in  battle.  When  I  find  a  wicked  man  under 
my  feet,  I  crush  him  like  a  scorpion,  that  he  may  sting  me  no 
more." 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     323 


XXII. 

THE   ARRIVAL. 

IT  is  easier  to  retain  wealth  in  the  hand  of  a  prodigal,  or  to 
carry  water  in  a  sieve,  than  to  lodge  patience  in  the  heart  of 
a  lover.  The  day  had  not  dawned  and  the  bird  had  not  quit- 
ted its  nest  when  the  son  of  Yusuf  awakened  his  companions, 
and  arranged  in  a  long  file  the  camels  loaded  with  the  gifts 
of  the  sherif  and  the  sultana.  He  impatiently  awaited  his  be- 
loved, whom  Fatima  had  kept  with  her  all  night,  that  she 
might  tell  her  the  story  of  her  love.  A  woman  always  loves 
the  rival  that  she  has  ceased  to  fear.  When  Cafour  opened 
the  door  of  the  harem  and  showed  herself,  uglier  and  more 
smiling  than  ever,  Abdallah  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise  and  joy. 
Could  the  woman  behind  the  child,  who  stretched  out  her 
hand  to  him,  really  be  Leila  ? 

It  was  she — a  lover  could  not  be  mistaken ;  yet  it  was  no 
longer  the  Egyptian  loaded  with  jewels,  but  a  Bedouin  who 
had  always  lived  in  the  tents.  Leila  was  clad  in  a  long  blue 
cotton  robe,  which  was  gathered  around  the  neck  and  fell  to 
the  feet.  Over  this  robe  was  a  red  woolen  burnous,  which 
covered  her  head.  Her  black  tresses,  arranged  in  numerous 
small  braids,  each  ending  in  a  coral  bead,  fell  to  her  eyes,  and 
added  to  the  softness  and  brilliancy  of  her  glance.  In  this 
simple  costume,  with  her  head  uncovered  and  her  feet  bare, 
Leila  was  the  queen  of  the  desert.  The  delighted  Bedouins 
saluted  her  as  she  passed,  as  fresh  and  smiling  as  the  dawn. 

They  set  out.  A  recent  storm  had  revived  nature;  the 
grass,  wet  with  dew,  and  the  freshly  opened  flowers,  smiled  on 
these  happy  hearts.  Leila  no  longer  hid  herself  in  the  back 
of  the  palanquin ;  Abdallah  rode  beside  her,  talking  all  the 


324  Fairy  Book. 

way,  with  his  hand  on  the  side  of  the  litter.  Cafour  had  never 
been  more  talkative  and  saucy. 

"  Oh,  Abdallah,"  said  Leila,  "  if  you  bear  so  hard  on  the 
side  of  the  litter,  you  will  overturn  it  and  throw  us  both  on  the 
ground." 

"  Well,  let  go  the  camel's  rein,  then ;  don't  refuse  me  the 
pleasure  of  holding  your  hand." 

"  Ingrate !"  cried  Cafour,  "  you  have  quite  forgotten  me. 
So,  black  Bedouin,  you  are  carrying  off  the  wife  of  the  Calif 
Moyawiah !"  And,  with  a  joyous  voice,  she  struck  up  the 
Bedouin  girl's  song  :* 

"  Oh,  take  these  purple  robes  away, 

Give  back  my  cloak  of  camel's  hair, 
And  bear  me  from  this  towering  pile 

To  where  the  black  tents  flap  in  air. 
The  camel's  colt,  with  faltering  tread, 

The  dog  that  all  but  barks  at  me, 
Delight  me  more  than  ambling  mules — 

Than  every  art  of  minstrelsy. 
And  any  cousin,  poor  but  free, 

Might  take  me,  fatted  ass,  from  thee." 

They  went  on  thus  the  whole  day,  unconscious  of  heat  t>r 
fatigue.  When  joy  follows  suffering,  do  we  think  of  aught 
else  than  joy  ?  Hafiz,  besides,  was  there  to  lead  the  caravan, 
and  Abdallah  did  not  need  to  quit  the  treasure  that  the  Bed- 
ouins were  bringing  back  in  triumph. 

Night  was  approaching  when  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
tents  of  the  Beni  Amurs.  The  sun  was  setting  beneath  the 
arch  of  an  immense  rainbow  that  spanned  half  the  sky,  a  ro- 
seate light  illumined  the  sands  of  the  desert,  and  golden  rays 
flashed  their  gleams  on  the  summit  of  the  granite  pyramids. 
In  the  distance  was  heard  the  shrill  cry  of  the  sakiah,  the 


*  The  song  of  the  beautiful  Bedouin  girl  Moyawiah  is  renowned  among  the  Arabs. 
It  may  be  found  in  Burton's  Personal  Narrative  of  a  Pilgrimage  to  El  Medina  and 
Mecca. 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.    325 

barking  of  the  dogs,  and  the  cooing  of  the  pigeons.  Sudden- 
ly a  piercing  shout  announced  the  return  of  the  travelers. 

"  What  cry  is  that  ?"  asked  Leila. 

"  It  is  my  mother's  voice,"  answered  Abdallah,  dismounting 
from  his  horse.  "  You  will  have  two  to  love  you." 

Halima  soon  appeared,  greatly  astonished  at  the  sight  of  so 
long  a  caravan.  "  What  are  these  ?"  said  she,  pointing  to  the 
packages  ;  "  has  the  son  of  Yusuf  sold  his  horse  and  arms  to 
turn  merchant  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  mother,"  answered  Abdallah ;  "  and  I  bring  you 
the  rarest  and  choicest  of  wares,  a  daughter  to  respect  and 
assist  you." 

Leila  alighted  from  the  litter  and  threw  herself  into  the 
arms  of  Halima,  who  looked  at  her  with  astonishment,  and 
asked  the  name  of  her  father  and  tribe.  She  was  not  less 
surprised  at  the  sight  of  Cafour,  and,  despite  all  Hafiz's 
speeches,  returned  to  the  tent  with  a  sigh.  She  had  little 
liking  for  a  stranger  woman.  But  when  Abdallah  came  and 
seated  himself  by  her  side  after  unloading  the  camels,  and 
Leila  hastened  with  a  basin  of  warm  water  to  wash  her  hus- 
band's feet  herself,  "  God  be  praised,"  cried  Halima,  "  this 
woman  will  be  truly  a  handmaid  unto  her  husband.  My 
house  has  at  last  found  a  mistress  ;  I  can  die  in  peace." 
And  she  tenderly  embraced  the  daughter  whom  God  had 
given  her  in  his  goodness. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  master  ?"  said  Cafour,  who  was  lying 
at  Abdallah's  feet,  with  her  head  resting  on  her  preserver's 
lap ;  "  has  the  smoke  of  your  pipe  got  into  your  eyes  ?  you 
look  as  if  you  were  crying.  Oh,  your  pipe  has  gone  out;  will 
you  have  a  coal  to  light  it  ?" 

"  Hush !  hush !"  said  the  Bedouin,  stroking  the  negress's 
head  as  if  caressing  a  faithful  dog.  The  child  lay  down  again, 
at  the  same  time  jerking  her  mistress's  arm  so  suddenly  that 


326  Fairy  Book. 

Leila's  forehead  came  in  contact  with  Abdallah's  lips.  Cafour 
laughed  at  the  success  of  her  stratagem.  Poor  creature !  to 
whom  every  thing  was  denied,  and  who  found  means  to  be 
happy  by  placing  her  happiness  in  that  of  others. 


XXIII. 

KARA     SHITAN. 

OMAR  hau  returned  to  Djiddah  with  despair  in  his  heart. 


It  was  in  vain  th^t  his  sla'ves  tried  to  divert  him  ;  it  was  in 
vain  that  business  arid  gold  poured  in  on  him  from  all  sides  ; 
his  passion  consumed  him.  He  passed  whole  days  in  his 
chamber,  sitting  cross-legged  on  a  carpet,  revolving  impossi- 
ble projects  in  his  brain,  and  seeking  for  a  vengeance  which 
escaped  him. 

"  Of  what  avail  is  my  father's  wish  to  me  ?"  he  cried.  "  Of 
what  use  is  my  health  and  the  money  that  I  have  accumula- 
ted ?  am  I  any  the  less,  on  that  account,  the  most  unhappy  of 
men  ?  That  wretched  Bedouin,  in  his  poverty,  triumphs  over 
me.  I  am  lonely  and  desolate  in  the  midst  of  my  abundance. 
Accursed  be  life  —  accursed  be  my  brother  !  The  oracle  has 
not  deceived  me  ;  I  am  slain  by  my  best  friend."  And  he  re- 
lapsed into  his  despair. 

The  grief  of  Omar  was  the  talk  of  the  whole  city.  If  little 
love  was  felt  for  the  son  of  Mansour,  on  the  other  hand  his 
fortune  was  greatly  esteemed.  Was  there  not  some  service 
to  offer  or  some  consolation  to  sell  him  ?  it  was  asked.  Aft- 
er such  an  insult,  he  would  well  reward  whomsoever  should 
avenge  him  on  the  Bedouin.  Such  words  are  not  lost.  It  is 
the  curse  of  the  rich  that  there  are  those  around  them  ready 
to  enter  the  fires  of  hell  in  their  behalf.  The  passions  of 
the  poor  are  flames  which  consume  the  heart,  and  then 
quickly  die  out  ;  the  passions  of  the  rich  are  a  brazier,  fed 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     327 

by  all  about  it,  and  giving  forth  conflagration,  crime,  and 
death. 

One  morning  the  son  of  Mansour  received  a  visit  from  an 
Arnaut  captain,  who  came,  he  said,  on  important  business 
that  would  suffer  no  delay.  Omar  received  him  politely,  and 
ordered  pipes  and  coffee  to  be  served. 

"  Capital  coffee !"  said  the  captain,  sipping  it  slowly ;  "  as 
bitter  as  death,  as  black  as  Satan,  and  as  hot  as  Hades. 
And  what  an  exquisite  mixture  of  nutmeg,  cinnamon,  and 
clove !  What  a  fine  thing  it  is  to  be  rich !  the  world  seems 
to  move  for  you  alone." 

"  Men  are  sometimes  mistaken  about  the  happiness  of  the 
rich,"  said  Omar,  sighing. 

"  Bah !  a  rich  man  in  sorrow  is  a  miser  who  knows  not  how 
to  use  his  gold.  If  he  loves  a  woman,  let  him  buy  her ;  if  he 
wishes  to  be  rid  of  a  rival,  let  him  sell  his  skin.  Every  thing 
can  be  bought  here  on  earth ;  with  money,  a  man  can  have 
every  thing." 

"  To  whom  have  I  the  honor  of  speaking  ?"  asked  the  son 
of  Mansour. 

"  My  name  is  Kara  Shitan,"  replied  the  stranger.  "  I  am 
an  Arnaut  chief — one  of  those  who  attacked  you  in  the  desert. 
By  killing  my  friend  Mohammed,  your  brother  Abdallah  made 
me  lose  five  thousand  douros ;  pay  me  this  sum,  and  I  will  rid 
you  of  Abdallah." 

"  A  murder !"  said  Omar. 

"  Bah  !"  rejoined  the  captain,  coldly ;  "  if  God  had  not  in- 
vented death,  it  would  not  be  long  before  we  should  eat  each 
other.  Away  with  false  scruples !  When  an  occasion  offers, 
wisdom  commands  us  not  to  let  it  slip.  It  is  just  to  force  our 
enemies  to  drink  the  bitter  cup  which  they  have  made  us 
taste;  we  are  right  in  striking  them  with  the  weapon  with 
which  they  were  the  first  to  wound  us." 


328  Fairy  Book. 

"  My  brother !"  said  Omar,  in  a  hesitating  tone. 

"  Your  brother  and  your  enemy.  What  matters  his  death 
to  you  ?  you  will  have  no  hand  in  it.  I  shall  kill  Abdallah 
like  a  dog  if  I  find  him  in  the  desert ;  I  shall  avenge  my  own 
cmarrel ;  only,  in  order  to  avenge  myself,  I  must  have  five 
thousand  douros." 

"  Of  what  use  will  your  vengeance  be  to  me  ?"  said  the  son 
of  Mansour. 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it,"  replied  Kara  Shitan ;  "  I  don't 
understand  business  as  well  as  you  do ;  but,  if  I  were  in  your 
place,  and  Abdallah  should  disappear,  I  should  find  no  trouble 
in  gaining  possession  of  the  beautiful  Leila.  The  Bedouin,  it 
is  said,  has  no  family  but  his  mother  and  an  old  dotard ;  a  lit- 
tle courage  and  resolution  will  remove  these  obstacles.  An 
abduction  is  an  easy  matter ;  Leila  once  a  widow  and  in  your 
house,  it  will  not  take  long  to  console  her.  What  is  there  to 
fear?  The  sherif  ?  At  Djiddah,  men  laugh  at  the  anger  of 
the  Bedouins.  The  pacha  ?  He  is  a  man  like  the  rest  of  us  ; 
he  has  a  conscience,  and  we  know  its  price." 

"  And  the  tribe — have  you  thought  of  that  ?" 

"  The  tribe  is  nothing,"  said  the  captain.  "  I  know  that 
these  Bedouins  have  as  much  rancor  and  malice  as  their 
camels;  but  blood  can  be  bought  as  well  as  other  things; 
money  is  not  despised  in  the  desert  any  more  than  any  where 
else,  and  the  Beni  Amurs  will  console  themselves  with  Abdal- 
lah's  inheritance." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Omar,  "  blood  can  be  ransomed  when  the 
murder  is  involuntary.  A  hundred  camels  is  the  price  of  a 
man's  blood ;  but  there  is  no  composition  for  murder,  and  I 
shall  suffer  death." 

"  The  desert  is  mute,"  said  the  captain,  "  and  dead  men  tell 
no  tales.  He  who  finds  a  shriveled  corpse  among  the  sands 
must  be  shrewd  indeed  if  he  can  distinguish  a  murder  from 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.    329 

an  accident.  But  we  will  say  no  more  about  it,"  added  he, 
rising.  "What  is  the  charming  Leila,  whom  I  have  never  be- 
held, to  me  ?  Let  her  love  her  Bedouin ;  let  them  be  happy 
together  and  laugh  at  the  son  of  Mansour — it  is  all  the  same 
to  me.  After  all,  Abdallah  is  a  brave  man,  and  I  respect  him ; 
if  you  had  inflicted  on  him  the  outrage  which  you  have  re- 
ceived, he  would  not  haggle  about  the  price  of  vengeance. 
Farewell." 

"  Stay,"  cried  the  son  of  Mansour ;  "  you  are  right.  While 
Abdallah  lives  there  is  no  security  for  me  on  earth  j  it  was 
predicted  to  me  at  my  birth,  and  I  feel  it  daily.  Deliver  me 
from  this  enemy.  As  to  the  cripple,  I  have  an  account  to  set- 
tle with  him  which  I  will  attend  to  myself.  Leila,  you  will 
cost  me  dear !" 

"  If  you  take  my  advice,"  resumed  the  captain,  "  we  shall 
both  strike  at  the  same  time.  I  will  entice  away  Abdallah, 
never  more  to  return,  and  you  shall  carry  off  the  lady ;  all  will 
be  done  in  two  hours,  and  the  enemy  overthrown  even  before 
he  suspects  the  danger." 

"  So  be  it,"  said  Omar ;  "  but  remember  that  I  never  wish 
to  see  your  face  again." 

"  That  is  very  natural,"  replied  Kara  Shitan.  "  Tell  me  the 
day  and  hour,  give  me  the  five  thousand  douros,  and  rely  on 
my  punctuality.  My  reputation  is  made ;  I  would  not  fail  to 
keep  my  word  for  the  finest  horses  in  Arabia." 


XXIV. 

HOSPITALITY. 

WHILE  avarice  and  hatred  were  plotting  Abdallah's  death, 
the  son  of  Yusuf  was  enjoying  his  happiness  without  dream- 
ing of  a  cloud  in  the  horizon.  Could  he  suspect  that  he  had 
an  enemy  when  his  soul  was  so  pure  and  his  heart  so  free 


33°  Fairy  Book. 

from  bitterness?  He  who  loves  and  is. beloved  looks  on  all 
men  as  his  brethren.  For  a  month  he  had  been  intoxicated 
with  joy  and  tenderness,  with  no  other  care  than  that  of  ad- 
miring Leila  and  thanking  God  for  having  blessed  his  house. 

In  one  of  those  hot,  misty  mornings  which  precede  a  storm, 
Abdallah  was  reposing  in  his  garden  in  the  shade  of  the  cit- 
ron-trees. Cafour  carelessly  lay  at  his  feet,  her  eyes  fixed  on 
him  like  a  dog  watching  for  an  order  or  a  glance.  At  the 
back  of  the  tent  Halima  was  baking  loaves  in  the  ashes, 
while  Leila,  seated  before  a  loom,  was  embroidering  gold  and 
silver  lozenges  on  her  husband's  burnous.  The  son  of  Yusut 
abandoned  himself  to  the  happiness  of  living  surrounded  by 
all  whom  he  loved.  The  barking  of  the  dogs  roused  him 
from  his  reverie.  A  man  had  stopped  his  camel  at  the  garden 
gate,  and  was  stretching  out  his  hand  to  the  young  Bed- 
ouin. Leila  disappeared,  and  Abdallah  went  to  meet  the 
stranger. 

"  Welcome,"  said  he  ;  "  thy  arrival  brings  us  the  blessing  of 
God.  The  house  and  all  it  contains  are  thine ;  thou  art  the 
master  thereof." 

"  Son  of  Yusuf,"  answered  the  stranger,  "  I  will  not  set  foot 
on  the  ground  till  thou  hast  sworn  to  render  me  the  service 
of  which  I  am  in  need." 

"  Speak,"  said  Abdallah  ;  "  thou  art  a  guest — thy  word  is  a 
command." 

"  I  am  a  poor  merchant  from  Syria,"  resumed  the  stranger. 
"  I  have  been  to  Mecca  on  business.  Yesterday  I  was  drawn 
into  a  quarrel  in  the  Holy  City  with  a  Beni  Motayr,  and  had  the 
misfortune  to  kill  my  adversary.  His  family  and  friends  are 
pursuing  me  ;  I  have  no  one  to  defend  me  ;  if  I  can  not  reach 
the  noble  Medina,  I  am  lost.  You  alone,  it  is  said,  can  con- 
duct me  thither  in  safety ;  my  life  is  in  your  hands — decide 
my  fate." 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     331 

"  Enter  my  tent,"  replied  the  son  of  Yusuf.  "  In  two  hours 
we  will  set  out." 

"  Remember,"  said  the  merchant,  "  that  I  trust  myself  to 
you  alone." 

"  I  alone  will  accompany  you,"  returned  Abdallah ;  "  I  an- 
swer for  your  safety  on  my  head." 

No  sooner  had  the  stranger  been  brought  into  the  tent  and 
confided  to  the  care  of  Halima  than  the  young  Bedouin  went 
out  to  prepare  for  departure.  Cafour  stopped  him  on  the 
way.  "  Do  you  know  this  man  ?"  said  she. 

"  No  ;  what  matters  it  ?     It  was  God  that  sent  him  hither." 

"  He  is  not  a  merchant ;  I  have  seen  his  pistols — they  are 
too  handsome  \  he  is  a  soldier.  Beware  of  him." 

"  Soldier  or  merchant,  what  have  I  to  fear  from  a  stranger 
and  a  fugitive  ?"  returned  Abdallah.  "  Make  haste  and  pre- 
pare supper;  I  have  only  time  to  tell  Leila  of  the  journey." 

When  the  son  of  Yusuf  returned  to  his  guest,  Cafour  had 
spread  the  table  with  unleavened  bread,  pressed  dates,  boiled 
rice,  "new  milk,  and  cold  water.  She  bustled  about  him  and 
gazed  at  him  earnestly,  trying  to  recall  where  she  had  seen 
this  face,  which  seemed  familiar  to  her.  The  stranger  was  per- 
fectly calm  and  indifferent.  In  her  anxiety,  she  determined  to 
arouse  him  and  break  the  charm  that  hid  the  danger.  Seiz- 
ing an  earthen  vase,  she  placed  herself  behind  the  pretended 
merchant,  and  threw  it  on  the  ground,  shivering  it  in  pieces. 
The  stranger  looked  angrily  around. 

"  The  Arnaut !"  cried  she,  looking  at  her  master. 

"  Begone,"  said  Abdallah,  "  and  do  not  trouble  me  with 
your  follies." 

Cafour  glided  to  a  corner  of  the  tent,  and  soon  returned 
with  boiling  tea.  The  stranger  was  perfectly  tranquil ;  the 
word  Arnaut  had  not  moved  him. 

"  My  guest,"  said  Abdallah,  "  welcome  to  this  poor  table. 


332  Fairy  Book, 

The  journey  will  be  long,  and  it  is  good  to  strengthen  your- 
self against  the  fatigue  to  come.  Satisfy  your  hunger." 

"  Excuse  me,"  replied  the  merchant ;  "  my  anxiety  and  fa- 
tigue have  given  me  a  fever,  and  I  have  but  one  desire — to 
set  out  on  my  way." 

"  Salt  is  good  for  the  appetite,"  said  Cafour,  and,  taking  a 
handful  of  salt,  she  thrust  it  into  the  stranger's  mouth  and  fled 
to  the  garden. 

"  Wretch !"  cried  Abdallah,  "  I  will  chastise  your  insolence," 
as  he  rushed  furiously  after  Cafour  to  punish  her. 

"  Strike,"  said  Cafour,  weeping,  "  strike  the  dog  that  warns 
you,  and  caress  the  jackal  that  will  devour  you.  Did  you  not 
hear  the  dogs  howl  this  morning?  they  saw  Azrael.  Mad- 
man, your  sins  blind  you ;  death  is  hovering  over  this  house. 
Do  you  not  know  that  merchant  ?" 

"  A  guest  is  above  suspicion,"  interrupted  Abdallah ;  and, 
returning  to  the  tent,  he  found  the  stranger  seated  in  the  same 
place,  with  a  smile  on  his  lips. 

"  The  slave  has  given  me  a  lesson  in  politeness,"  said  he. 
"  The  beard  of  the  guest  is  in  the  hand  of  the  master  of  the 
tent ;  I  will  endeavor  to  do  honor  to  your  hospitality."  He 
fell  to  eating  with  an  excellent  appetite  for  a  sick  man,  talking 
freely,  and  seeking  every  means  to  be  agreeable  to  Abdallah. 

At  the  moment  of  departure,  when  the  stranger  was  already 
mounted,  Leila  came  out,  with  her  face  half  concealed  in  her 
burnous,  holding  a  pitcher  in  her  hand,  from  which  she  sprin- 
kled a  few  drops  of  water  on  the  feet  and  haunches  of  the 
camel.  "  May  God  give  thee  a  good  journey,"  said  she,  "  and 
conduct  thee  back  in  safety  to  those  who  love  and  watch  for 
thee." 

"Those  who  love  me  are  under  ground,"  answered  the 
stranger ;  "  and  since  I  lost  my  mother,  twenty  years  ago,  no 
one  has  watched  for  me." 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     333 

"  Then  may  God  give  thee  a  wife  to  love  thee  and  grow  old 
by  thy  side." 

"  Let  us  go,"  said  the  stranger,  abruptly ;  "  the  moments  are 
numbered." 

"  My  lord,"  said  Leila  to  her  husband, "  thou  bearest  happi- 
ness away  with  thee  ;  mayest  thou  soon  bring  it  back  again !" 

Cafour  was  by  Abdallah's  side.  "  Master,"  said  she, "  don't 
you  take  your  gun  ?" 

"  No,  it  would  be  an  insult  to  him  whom  I  accompany. 
Fear  nothing ;  he  whom  God  guards  is  well  guarded.  When 
my  uncle  returns  from  the  fields,  tell  him  to  watch  over  the 
tent.  Next  to  Sod,  it  is  to  him  that  I  trust  you." 

And,  taking  his  lance  in  his  hand,  Abdallah  set  out  on  his 
way,  walking  by  the  side  of  the  stranger's  camel.  Halima 
and  Leila  followed  the  travelers  with  their  eyes  as  long  as 
they  could  see  them,  then  returned  to  the  tent.  Cafour  alone 
remained  outside,  with  fixed  gaze  and  trembling  heart.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  the  horizon  was  about  to  open  and  the 
desert  to  give  back  the  master  for  whom  she  watched.  Vain 
hope  of  an  anxious  soul !  Night  fell  on  the  earth  without 
bringing  Abdallah. 

XXV. 

THE   GOLDEN    LEAF. 

No  sooner  had  they  plunged  into  the  sands  than  the  stran- 
ger looked  around  him  to  be  certain  that  he  was  alone,  and 
began  to  play  with  the  handle  of  his  pistol. 

"  I  hope,  my  dear  guest,"  said  Abdallah,  "  that  you  will  par- 
don the  folly  of  that  child  who  disturbed  your  repose." 

"  If  the  slave  had  been  mine,  I  should  have  punished  her 
severely,"  answered  the  traveler. 

"  We  should  be  indulgent  to  those  who  love  us,"  returned 


334  Fairy  Book. 

Abdallah.  "  Cafour  thought  me  threatened  with  some  great 
danger ;  it  was  to  save  me  from  this  imaginary  peril  that  she 
involuntarily  offended  you.  By  forcing  you  to  eat  my  salt  she 
has  made  us  friends  for  life  and  death.  Is  not  this  the  case 
among  you  Syrians  ?" 

"  In  my  tribe,"  said  the  stranger,  "  the  obligation  lasts  for 
one  day.  But  if  the  second  day  passes  without  partaking  of 
the  same  dish,  the  salt  loses  its  virtue,  and  we  are  free  to  hate 
each  other." 

"  Well,  my  guest,"  replied  Abdallah,  smiling,  "  you  shall  kill 
me  to-morrow  after  I  have  saved  your  life.  Until  then  I  am 
in  your  keeping;  it  is  your  duty  to  protect  me  against  all 
men." 

"  So  I  will,"  returned  the  stranger — then  was  silent.  "  These 
are  strange  words,"  thought  he.  "  The  Bedouin  is  right ;  I  can 
not  kill  him  while  the  salt  of  hospitality  is  still  in  my  stomach 
— it  would  be  a  crime.  I  will  wait  till  evening.  When  the 
sun  sets  another  day  will  begin,  and  I  shall  have  the  right  to 
do  as  I  like." 

All  along  the  way  he  gazed  at  Abdallah,  who  went  on  with 
an  erect  head  and  calm  brow.  The  Bedouin's  pistols  were 
not  loaded,  and  if  he  carried  a  lance  in  his  hand,  it  was  only 
to  aid  him  in  walking. 

"  This  man's  confidence  hampers  me,"  said  the  stranger  to 
himself.  "  I  would  gladly  fell  an  enemy ;  I  can  not  slaughter 
a  sheep.  Five  thousand  douros  for  such  a  task  is  not  enough  ; 
I  would  rather  kill  that  dog  of  an  Omar  for  half  the  price." 

When  the  sun  was  near  setting,  the  merchant  urged  on  his 
camel  in  order  to  prepare  his  weapons  without  being  seen 
by  Abdallah ;  then,  hiding  his  arms  under  his  burnous,  he 
paused.  "  Well,"  thought  he,  "  the  moment  has  come." 

As  he  turned  round,  the  son  of  Yusuf  approached  him, 
seized  the  camel  by  the  bridle,  and,  thrusting  his  lance  into 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     335 

the  ground,  spread  two  carpets  on  the  sand.  "  My  brother," 
said  he, "  this  is  the  hour  of  prayer.  The  keblah  is  before  us, 
and  if  we  have  no  water  for  our  ablutions,  you  know  that  the 
Prophet  permits  us  to  use  the  sand  of  the  desert." 

"  I  have  no  time  to  waste  here ;  let  us  go  on,"  cried  the 
stranger. 

"  Are  you  not  a  Mussulman  ?"  said  Abdallah,  looking  at 
him  with  a  threatening  air. 

"  There  is  no  God  but  God,  and  Mohammed  is  his  proph- 
et," the  merchant  hastened  to  reply.  "  But  the  religion  of  a 
poor  pilgrim  like  me  is  simpler  than  that  of  a  noble  Bedouin. 
I  do  not  pray,  because  all  that  God  does  he  does  well ;  I  do 
not  wash  my  face,  because  I  need  the  water  of  the  desert  to 
drink ;  I  do  not  give  alms,  because  I  ask  them  ;  I  do  not  fast 
in  the  month  of  Ramadan,  because  I  famish  with  hunger  all 
the  year  round ;  and  I  do  not  go  on  pilgrimages,  because  the 
whole  earth  is  the  house  of  God.  This  is  my  faith ;  so  much 
the  worse  for  those  who  are  too  nice  to  like  it." 

"You  surprise  me,  my  dear  guest,"  resumed  the  son  of 
Yusuf.  "  I  had  a  different  opinion  of  you.  Do  you  not  wear, 
like  myself,  an  amulet  on  your  arm  to  drive  away  the  tempta- 
tions of  the  evil  spirit  ?  Do  you  not  know  that  it  contains  the 
two  saving  chapters  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  wear  a  talisman,"  said  the  stranger.  "  My  mother 
gave  it  to  me  twenty  years  ago  on  her  dying  bed.  It  is  the 
only  thing  that  I  respect ;  more  than  once  it  has  turned  aside 
the  death  that  was  whistling  about  me." 

"  Have  you  forgotten  the  words  that  make  the  virtue  of  this 
treasure  ?" 

"  I  have  never  troubled  myself  about  them ;  my  mother 
chose  them  for  me ;  she  knew  that  of  which  I  am  ignorant." 

"  Hearken  to  them,"  said  Abdallah,  solemnly.  "  When  3 
man  lives  in  the  midst  of  these  sands  which  may  overwhelm 


336  Fairy  Book. 

him  at  a  breath,  it  is  good  to  draw  nigh  by  prayer  to  him 
who  alone  rules  the  danger." 

And,  bending  toward  Mecca,  the  son  of  Yusuf  repeated, 
with  emotion,  the  chapter  of  the  Koran  entitled  the 

DAYBREAK. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  clement  and  merciful  God, 
Say,  I  fly  for  refuge  unto  the  Lord  of  the  DAYBREAK  ; 
From  the  mischief  of  the  beings  whom  he  has  created ; 
From  the  mischief  of  the  night  when  it  cometh  on  ; 
From  the  mischief  of  the  envious,  who  beareth  us  envy:" 

"  Peace  be  upon  thee  !"  cried  the  merchant.  "  Are  those 
the  words  which  my  mother  left  me  ?"  and,  while  listening  to 
Abdallah,  he  replaced  the  pistols  in  his  belt. 

The  son  of  Yusuf  continued  to  recite  the  Koran  : 


"  In  the  name  of  the  clement  and  merciful  God, 
Say,  I  fly  for  refuge  unto  the  Lord  of  MEN, 
The  King  of  men, 
The  God  of  men  ; 

From  the  mischief  of  him  who  suggests  evil  thoughts  and  slyly  withdraweth, 
Who  whispers  evil  into  the  hearts  of  men — 
From  genii  and  men." 

"  Who  says  this  ?"  asked  the  stranger.  "  Who  reads  thus 
the  heart?" 

"It  is  God  himself,"  replied  Abdallah;  "we  are  his.  If 
he  wishes  our  destruction,  our  feet  lead  us  where  death  awaits 
us.  If  he  wishes  our  safety,  death  falls  before  us  like  a 
wounded  lion.  He  saved  Abraham  in  the  midst  of  the 
flames ;  he  drew  Jonah  from  the  depths  of  the  sea  and  the 
belly  of  the  whale." 

"  Then  do  you  never  fear  death  ?" 

"  No.  Where  God  commands,  all  precautions  are  vain. 
There  are  two  days  in  our  life  when  it  is  useless  to  arm 
ourselves  against  death — the  day  when  God  orders  Azrael  to 
strike  us,  and  the  day  when  he  forbids  him  to  approach  us." 


Abdallah ;  or,  Tke  Four-leaved  Clover.     337 

"  May  we  not  still  fear  the  unknown  hour  that  is  destined 
to  carry  us  away  ?" 

"  No,  not  if  we  have  followed  the  Word  of  God.  Your 
mother  doubtless  told  you  more  than  once  what  mine  has 
often  repeated  to  me,  'Remember  that  on  the  day  of  thy 
birth  thou  alone  wept,  while  all  around  thee  rejoiced.  Live 
so  that  at  thy  last  moment  all  around  thee  may  be  in  tears, 
while  thou  alone  hast  no  tears  to  shed ;  then  thou  wilt  not 
fear  death,  whatever  may  be  the  hour  of  its  coming.'  " 

"  You  dwellers  in  the  desert  are  a  strange  people,"  mur- 
mured the  stranger ;  "  your  words  are  golden,  but  your  acts 
are  evil."  And  he  involuntarily  carried  his  hand  to  his  pis- 
tol. 

"We  are  the  people  of  the  Prophet,"  returned  the  Bed- 
ouin ;  "  we  follow  his  teachings.  Before  ever  you  set  foot  in 
my  tent,"  he  continued,  raising  his  voice,  "  I  knew  you,  Kara 
Shitan.  You  are  my  enemy ;  you  came  to  my  dwelling  under 
a  false  name  ;  I  know  not  the  end  of  your  journey,  and  noth- 
ing would  have  been  easier  than  for  me  to  rid  myself  of  you ; 
but  you  demanded  my  hospitality ;  God  placed  you  under  my 
keeping,  and  this  is  why  I  have  accompanied  you,  alone  and 
unarmed.  If  you  have  evil  thoughts,  may  God  protect  me ; 
if  not,  give  me  your  hand." 

"  May  hell  be  my  inheritance  if  I  touch  him  who  has 
spared  me !"  said  Kara  Shitan.  "  Here  is  my  hand  ;  it  is 
that  of  a  soldier  who  returns  evil  for  evil,  and  good  for  good." 

No  sooner  had  the  Arnaut  uttered  the  words  than  he  began 
to  regret  them.  "  Here  I  have  allowed  myself  to  be  trifled 
with  like  a  child,"  thought  he.  "  Shall  I  give  back  the  five 
thousand  douros  ?  No  ;  Omar  is  rich  enough  to  pay  his  broth- 
er's debt.  Besides,  have  I  not  rid  him  of  Abdallah  ?  If  his 
heart  has  not  failed  him,  Leila  by  this  time  is  on  the  way  to 
Djiddah.  If  he  undertakes  to  complain,  let  him  come  for  his 

P 


338  Fairy  Book. 

douros ;  I  have  promised  to  kill  some  one — I  give  him  the 
preference."  At  this  happy  thought,  Kara  Shitan  laughed  to 
himself,  and  admired  his  own  wit. 

An  instant  after  he  was  seized  with  remorse.  "  It  is  not  nat- 
ural," thought  he,  "  for  me  to  give  way  to  such  weakness.  Who 
now  will  ask  my  aid  ?  I  am  like  an  old  lion  without  teeth  or 
claws.  That  young  woman  who  spoke  to  me  so  gently,  this 
Bedouin  who  trusts  in  me,  the  voice  of  my  mother  which 
seems  to  rise  from  the  tomb — all  this  is  magic.  Accursed 
amulet,  thou  hast  destroyed  me !"  and  he  snatched  the  talis- 
man from  his  arm. 

"  Captain,"  said  Abdallah,  "  we  must  plunge  into  the  desert 
if  you  would  not  meet  the  caravan  which  we  see  yonder  on  the 
way  to  the  noble  Medina." 

"  No,"  said  Kara  Shitan ;  "on  the  contrary,  I  shall  join  it ; 
I  need  you  no  longer.  What  shall  I  give  you  to  show  my 
gratitude  ?  Here,  take  this  talisman.  You  know  not  what 
you  owe  it ;  you  know  not  what  it  costs  me.  Farewell ;  if  you 
hear  me  called  a  coward,  remember  that  I  have  been  your 
guest  and  your  friend." 

And,  urging  on  his  camel,  he  rode  off,  leaving  Abdallah 
surprised  by  these  strange  words,  the  meaning  of  which  es- 
caped him. 

Left  alone,  the  son  of  Yusuf  endeavored  to  fasten  the  pro- 
tecting amulet  about  his  arm..  It  was  a  little  roll  of  parch- 
ment, wound  around  with  a  silken  thread.  On  one  side  was 
sewed  a  bit  of  velvet,  to  which  something  resembling  a  golden 
bee  was  attached.  Abdallah  uttered  a  cry  of  joy :  he  could 
not  be  mistaken ;  it  was  the  third  leaf— the  clover  was  com- 
plete. The  son  of  Yusuf  had  nothing  more  to  seek  for  on 
earth ;  the  diamond  leaf  awaited  him  in  heaven. 

With  a  soul  overflowing  with  gratitude,  Abdallah  prostrated 


Abdallah  ;  or>  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     339 

himself  on  the  earth,  and,  in  a  voice  full  of  emotion,  recited 
the  Fat-hah  : 

"  In  the  name  of  the  clement  and  merciful  God. 
Praise  be  to  God,  the  Lord  of  the  universe, 

The  clement  and  merciful, 

The  King  of  the  day  of  judgment, 
Thee  alone  do  we  worship,  and  of  thee  alone  do  we  beg  assistance. 

Direct  us  in  the  right  way, 

In  the  way  of  those  whom  thou  hast  loaded  with  thy  blessings, 
Not  of  those  who  have  incurred  thy  wrath,  nor  of  those  who  go  astray, 
Amen,  Lord  of  the  angels,  of  the  genii,  and  of  men." 

The  prayer  finished,  Abdallah  turned  his  face  homeward 
with  a  light  heart  and  joyous  tread.  A  new  thought  had  en- 
tered his  brain — a  thought  which  was  a  new  happiness  in  it- 
self. Was  it  certain  that  the  diamond  leaf  had  fallen  within 
the  gates  of  Paradise  ?  Did  not  these  three  leaves,  reunited 
from  different  parts  of  the  globe,  cry  out  for  their  sister? 
Could  a  blessing  of  God  remain  imperfect  ?  Why  might  not 
a  new  effort,  a  more  entire  devotion  to  the  divine  will,  obtain 
the  highest  prize  for  which  Abdallah's  heart  sighed  ? 

Intoxicated  with  this  hope,  the  son  of  Yusuf  walked  on 
without  thinking  of  the  length  and  fatigue  of  the  journey, 
and  the  darkness  alone  forced  him  to  stop.  The  sky  was 
lowering,  and  the  moon  did  not  rise  till  near  morning.  Wrap- 
ped in  his  burnous,  the  Bedouin  threw  himself  at  the  foot  of  a 
tree,  and  quickly  fell  asleep.  But  his  thoughts  did  not  quit  the 
divine  clover ;  he  saw  it  in  his  dreams  :  then  the  leaves  grew 
and  assumed  a  human  form ;  Leila,  Hafiz,  Halima,  and  poor 
Cafour,  hand  in  hand,  formed  the  mysterious  plant,  and  en- 
riched him  with  their  smiles  and  love.  "To-morrow,  my 
loved  ones,  to-morrow  we  shall  meet  again  !"  murmured  he. 

"  Verily,  the  knowledge  of  the  hour  of  judgment  is  with 
God.  No  soul  knoweth  what  it  shall  gain  on  the  morrow, 
neither  doth  any  soul  know  in  what  land  it  shall  die  ;  but  God 
is  knowing,  and  fully  acquainted  with  all  things." 


34O  Fairy  Book. 


XXVI. 

THE   RETURN. 

WHEN  the  son  of  Yusuf  awakened,  the  moon  was  shedding 
her  gentle  light  on  the  earth,  and  the  breeze  of  the  morning 
was  already  felt.  The  impatient  traveler  quickened  his  steps, 
and,  on  mounting  a  small  rising  ground,  he  saw  the  tents  of 
his  tribe  in  the  distance  by  the  first  beams  of  daylight.  In 
front  of  them,  and  nearer  him,  was  his  own  dwelling ;  he  had 
waited  for  autumn  before  removing  from  the  garden  he  had 
planted,  the  bower  in  which  Leila  took  delight. 

At  the  sight  of  his  people,  Abdallah  paused  to  take  breath 
and  enjoy  the  spectacle  before  his  eyes.  The  first  sounds  of 
the  morning  were  succeeding  the  calmness  of  the  night.  A 
few  women  were  already  on  their  way  to  the  well,  with  their 
pitchers  on  their  heads  ;  the  camels  were  stretching  out  their 
long  necks  and  braying  ;  and  the  sheep  were  bleating  in  their 
folds  for  the  shepherd.  Around  Abdallah's  tent  all  was  silent ; 
there  was  neither  sound  nor  movement  in  the  garden.  "  My 
uncle  is  growing  old,"  thought  the  Bedouin ;  "  there  is  great 
need  of  me  at  home.  What  happiness  to  surprise  them  all ! 
Who  would  have  thought  once  that  a  day's  absence  would 
seem  so  long  to  me  !" 

As  he  descended  the  hill  a  horse  ran  past  him  at  full  gallop 
— it  was  Hamama.  He  called  her ;  the  frightened  mare  fled 
toward  the  Bedouin  village ;  for  the  first  time  she  did  not 
hear  the  voice  of  her  master. 

"  Who  has  untied  Hamama  ?"  thought  Abdallah.  "  What 
has  frightened  her  ?  It  is  some  new  prank  of  Cafour's.  Why 
haven't  they  kept  better  guard  ?" 

He  entered  the  garden,  the  gate  of  which  was  open.  At  the 
sound  of  his  steps  the  dogs  came  out  of  the  tent,  but,  instead 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     341 

of  running  to  meet  him,  they  set  up  a  mournful  howl.  "  God 
is  great !"  exclaimed  the  son  of  Yusuf.  "  Misfortune  has  en- 
tered my  dwelling." 

In  a  moment  he  felt  the  bitterness  of  death.  He  tried  to 
go  on,  but  his  knees  bent  beneath  him,  and  a  cloud  passed 
before  his  eyes.  He  tried  to  call  out,  but  his  words  choked 
him.  At  last,  with  a  desperate  effort,  "  My  uncle,  my  moth- 
er, Leila,  Cafour,  where  are  you  ?"  shouted  he. 

There  was  no  answer.  The  doves  were  cooing  among  the 
branches,  the  bees  were  humming  around  the  last  remaining 
flowers,  the  water  was  rippling  over  the  pebbles  ;  every  thing 
was  living  in  the  garden — the  tent  was  mute  and  lifeless. 
Abdallah  dragged  himself  from  one  clump  of  trees  to  anoth- 
er ;  then  his  strength  returned,  and  the  blood  mounted  to  his 
cheeks.  He  staggered  onward  like  a  drunken  man. 

The  tent  was  empty,  the  furniture  overturned,  and  a  table 
broken ;  there  had  been  a  struggle.  The  curtain  of  the  apart- 
ment of  the  women  was  down.  Abdallah  ran  thither.  As  he 
entered  he  stumbled  over  a  corpse — it  was  Hafiz.  The  old 
man  was  stretched  on  his  back,  his  teeth  shut,  his  mouth  cov- 
ered with  foam,  and  his  features  contracted  with  rage.  His 
hands  were  clenched.  In  the  left  he  held  a  shred  of  blue 
cotton  stuff — it  was  the  robe  of  Leila ;  in  the  right  a  piece  of 
scarlet  cloth,  torn  doubtless  from  the  ravisher.  Brave  Hafiz  ! 
the  cowards  had  not  dared  attack  him  face  to  face,  but  had 
assassinated  him  from  behind  while  he  was  defending  Leila. 

Abdallah  fell  on  his  knees  by  the  side  of  his  uncle  and 
closed  his  eyes.  "  God  grant  thee  mercy  !"  said  he  ;  "  may 
he  be  as  good  to  thee  as  thou  wert  to  us  !"  He  rose  without 
shedding  a  tear,  and  walked  with  a  firm  step  toward  the  vil- 
lage ;  but  his  limbs  failed  him  on  the  way,  and  he  was  forced 
to  lean  against  a  palm-tree  for  support.  Taking  his  pistols 
from  his  girdle,  he  fired  them  in  the  air.  At  the  sound  the 


34 2  Fairy  Book. 

Bedouins  ran  from  all  sides.  Men  and  women  surrounded 
Abdallah,  who  stood  pale,  with  frenzied  eyes  and  trembling 
limbs.  "  Here  you  are,"  he  cried, "  brave  warriors,  Beni  Amurs, 
kings  of  the  desert !  Oh,  sons  of  Jews,  hearts  of  women, 
cowards,  the  curses  of  God  fall  upon  your  heads  !"  And  for 
the  first  time  he  wept. 

A  cry  of  rage  answered  his  words.  "  He  is  mad,"  cried 
one  of  the  old  men  ;  "  respect  him  whose  soul  is  with  God. 
Come,  my  child,"  added  he,  taking  Abdallah's  hand,  "  calm 
yourself ;  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  cried  the  young  man.  "  This  night, 
in  my  absence,  Hafiz  has  been  killed,  my  mother  has  been 
carried  off,  all  that  I  loved  have  been  snatched  from  me. 
And  you — you  were  asleep — you  heard  nothing.  Curses  on 
you.  To  me  the  misfortune;  to  you  the  outrage  and  in- 
famy!" 

At  the  first  words  of  Abdallah  the  women  had  rushed  to- 
ward the  tent,  where  they  were  heard  moaning  and  weeping. 
The  sheik  cast  down  his  head. 

"Who  would  have  thought  of  watching  over  your  family 
when  your  uncle  and  brother  were  there  to  protect  them  ?" 
said  he. 

"  My  brother  !  impossible  !'' 

"Your  brother  came  here  last  evening  with  six  slaves," 
said  a  Bedouin.  "  I  knew  the  little  merchant ;  I  helped  Hafiz 
kill  a  sheep  for  the  supper  of  his  guests." 

The  son  of  Yusuf  hid  his  face  in  his  hands,  then  looked  at 
his  companions,  and  said  in  a  faint  voice,  "  Come  and  see 
what  my  brother  has  done,  and  advise  me  what  to  do." 

"  Advice  is  easy,"  replied  the  sheik.  "  After  an  outrage 
there  is  but  one  thought  for  him  who  has  a  soul — vengeance ! 
You  are  a  finger  of  our  hand ;  whoever  touches  you  wounds 
us;  whoever  seeks  your  life  seeks  ours.  Omar  has  a  few 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     343 

hours  the  start  of  us,  but  with  God's  aid  we  will  kill  him  be- 
fore  night.  Come,  my  brave  men,"  he  added,  "  saddle  your 
horses  and  take  a  double  ration  of  water ;  the  weather  is  low- 
ering, and  the  skins  dry  fast.  Let  us  go." 

Before  mounting  his  horse,  Abdallah  wished  to  see  his  uncle 
once  more.  The  women  had  already  surrounded  the  corpse 
and  commenced  their  lamentations.  "  Oh,  my  father,  my  only 
friend,"  cried  the  Bedouin,  "you  know  why  I  leave  thee. 
Either  I  will  never  more  enter  this  dwelling,  or  thou  shalt  be 
avenged." 

The  Beni  Amurs  followed  the  son  of  Yusuf.  The  sheik 
gazed  long  at  old  Hafiz ;  then,  raising  his  hand,  "  Accursed 
be  he  who  returns  to  his  wife  till  he  has  stricken  down  the 
enemy !"  said  he.  "  Woe  to  him  who  has  insulted  us ;  before 
this  night  we  will  fling  his  corpse  to  the  eagles  and  jackals. 
The  whole  earth  shall  know  whether  the  Beni  Amurs  are 
brethren  who  cling  together,  or  children  with  whom  men  can 
trifle  with  impunity." 

XXVII. 

LEILA. 

THE  band  set  out  amid  the  cries  of  the  women  and  shouts 
of  vengeance ;  once  in  the  desert,  all  was  silent,  each  making 
ready  his  arms  and  watching  the  horizon.  It  was  not  difficult 
to  follow  the  caravan ;  the  wind  had  not  yet  effaced  the  foot- 
prints of  the  camels,  all  of  which  pointed  toward  Djiddah. 
Abdallah,  always  in  advance,  counted  the  minutes,  and  called 
God  to  his  aid  ;  but,  however  much  he  strained  his  gaze,  he 
saw  naught  but  solitude.  The  air  was  burning,  the  heavens 
were  heavy  with  the  coming  storm.  The  horses,  panting  and 
covered  with  sweat,  advanced  at  a  slow  pace.  The  son  of 
Yusuf  sighed ;  vengeance  seemed  escaping  him. 


344  Fairy  Book. 

At  length  he  perceived  a  black  speck  in  the  distance — it  was 
the  caravan.  It  had  felt  the  approach  of  the  storm,  and  had 
taken  refuge  near  those  Red  Rocks  known  so  well  to  Abdal- 
lah.  "  My  friends,  we  have  them !"  cried  he.  "  Here  they 
are ;  God  has  delivered  them  into  our  hands.  Forward !" 
And  each  one,  forgetting  fatigue,  spurred  his  horse  on  the 
ravishers. 

In  these  endless  plains  it  is  not  easy  to  surprise  an  enemy 
that  stands  on  his  guard.  Omar  soon  recognized  his  pur- 
suers, and  did  not  wait  for  them.  He  ranged  the  camels  in 
line,  and  placed  a  few  drivers  behind  them  to  feign  a  defense, 
then  mounted  a  horse  and  fled  with  the  rest  of  the  band  into 
the  desert. 

The  Bedouins  came  up.  At  the  first  discharge,  Omar's 
camel-drivers  gave  way  and  fled  among  the  rocks.  Before 
the  smoke  was  cleared  away  a  woman  ran  to  meet  Abdallah  : 
it  was  Halima,  who  had  been  left  behind  and  had  escaped  her 
enemies. 

"  Blessed  be  thou,  my  son !"  she  cried.  "  Do  not  stop ;  give 
chase  to  that  negro  with  the  red  jacket ;  he  is  the  assassin  of 
Hafiz  and  the  kidnapper  of  Leila.  Avenge  us ;  eye  for  eye, 
tooth  for  tooth,  life  for  life !  Death  to  traitors,  death  to  mur- 
derers !" 

At  these  cries  Hamama  rushed  over  the  sands  with  the 
swiftness  of  a  torrent,  as  if  sharing  in  her  master's  passion. 
The  Bedouins  had  great  difficulty  in  keeping  their  companion 
in  sight.  As  for  Abdallah,  rage  made  him  forget  danger. 
"  Cowards !"  cried  he  to  the  accomplices  of  Omar,  "  where 
would  you  flee  when  God  pursues  you  ?"  and  with  drawn  sabre 
he  passed  amid  the  bullets,  his  eye  fixed  on  the  negro  who  was 
carrying  off  Leila.  The  pursuer  and  pursued  soon  left  the 
rest  of  the  party  behind.  The  Ethiopian,  mounted  on  a  fleet 
horse,  sped  like  an  arrow  through  the  air,  while  Abdallah  fol- 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.    345 

lowed  close  behind.  Hamama  gained  ground ;  vengeance 
was  approaching.  Leila,  placed  in  front  and  held  by  a  pow- 
erful arm,  called  her  husband,  writhing  in  the  stifling  embrace, 
and  vainly  struggling  against  the  terrible  rider.  Suddenly  she 
seized  the  bridle  and  gave  it  a  jerk,  which  disturbed  the  horse, 
and  caused  him  to  stop  for  an  instant.  "Curses  on  you," 
cried  the  negro ;  "  I  am  lost.  Let  go  the  bridle,  or  I  shall  be 
killed." 

"  Here,  my  beloved !"  cried  Leila,  clinging  to  the  bridle, 
despite  threats  and  blows,  with  the  energy  of  despair. 

She  was  saved.  The  son  of  Yusuf  fell  like  a  thunderbolt 
en  the  ravisher,  when  suddenly  the  frightened  Hamama  sprang 
aside  with  a  bound  which  would  have  thrown  any  other  than 
ner  rider.  A  heavy  mass  had  fallen  at  her  feet.  Abdallah 
heard  a  groan  which  chilled  him  to  the  heart.  Without  think- 
ing t>f  the  flying  enemy,  he  leaped  to  the  ground  and  raised 
the  unhappy  Leila,  pale  and  bleeding,  with  distorted  features. 
A  deep  wound  was  gaping  in  her  throat,  and  her  eyes  were 
sightless,  "  Leila,  my  love,  speak  to  me  !"  cried  Abdallah, 
clasping  his  wife  to  his  heart,  while  he  tried  to  stanch  the 
gaping  wound  from  which  her  life-blood  was  ebbing.  Leila 
no  longer  heard  him.  He  seated  himself  on  the  sand  with 
his  precious  burden,  and,  taking  Leila's  hand,  raised  one  finger 
in  the  air.  "  My  child,"  said  he,  "  repeat  with  me,  *  There  is 
no  God  but  God,  and  Mohammed  is  his  prophet/  Answer 
me,  I  entreat  you ;  it  is  your  husband — it  is  Abdallah  that  calls 
you." 

At  this  name  Leila  started  ;  her  eyes  sought  him  whom  she 
loved,  and  her  lips  half  opened ;  then  her  head  fell  on  Abdal- 
lah's  shoulder  like  the  head  of  a  dying  hare  on  the  shoulder 
of  the  hunter. 

When  the  Beni  Amurs  joined  the  son  of  Yusuf,  they  found 
him  motionless  in  the  same  place,  holding  his  wife  in  his 


346  Fairy  Book. 

arms  and  gazing  in  her  face,  which  seemed  to  smile  on  him. 
They  surrounded  their  companion  in  silence,  and  more  than 
one  wept. 

At  the  sight  of  the  corpse  Halima  uttered  a  cry  of  anguish, 
and  threw  herself  on  her  son's  neck ;  then,  suddenly  rising, 
"Are  we  avenged?"  said  she.  "Is  Omar  dead?  is  the  negro 
slain?" 

"See  those  crows  gathering  yonder,"  said  one  of  the  Bed- 
ouins ;  "  there  is  the  murderer  of  Hafiz.  Omar  has  escaped 
us,  but  the  simoom  is  rising ;  it  will  overtake  him  before  he 
can  escape  from  the  desert,  and  before  an  hour  the  sand  will 
serve  as  his  winding-sheet." 

"  My  son,  summon  up  your  courage,"  said  Halima.  "  Our 
enemy  still  lives ;  leave  tears  to  women.  Leave  us  to  bury 
the  dead ;  go,  punish  the  traitor ;  God  will  go  with  you." 

These  words  reanimated  Abdallah.  "  God  is  great !"  he 
cried.  "  You  are  right,  my  mother ;  to  you  the  tears,  and  to 
me  the  vengeance." 

He  rose  and  placed  Leila  in  his  mother's  arms  ;  then,  gaz- 
ing at  her  pale  face  with  infinite  tenderness, "  Peace  be  with 
thee,  daughter  of  my  soul,"  he  said,  in  a  slow  and  grave  voice. 
"  Peace  be  with  thee,  who  art  now  in  the  presence  of  the 
Lord.  Receive  what  has  been  promised  thee.  It  is  God 
that  raises  us  up,  it  is  God  that  casts  us  down ;  it  is  God 
that  gives  us  life,  it  is  God  that  sends  us  death.  If  it  pleases 
God,  we  shall  soon  join  thee.  O  God,  forgive  him,  and  for- 
give us !" 

He  raised  his  hands  to  heaven,  murmured  the  Fat-hah,  and, 
passing  his  hand  over  his  brow,  embraced  his  mother  and 
mounted  his  horse. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?"  said  a  sheik.  "  Do  you  not  see 
that  fiery  cloud  advancing?  We  have  barely  time  to  reach 
the  Red  Rocks ;  death  is  yonder." 


Abdallah;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     347 

"  Farewell,"  answered  Abdallah.     "  There  is  no  more  rest 
for  me  except  in  the  shadow  of  death." 


XXVIII. 

VENGEANCE. 

SCARCELY  had  the  son  of  Yusuf  quitted  his  friends  when  he 
found  himself  before  a  corpse  ;  it  was  the  negro,  already  cov- 
ered with  birds  of  prey.  "  God  hates  the  treacherous,"  mur- 
mured the  Bedouin  3  "  he  will  deliver  the  son  of  Mansour  into 
my  hand." 

The  whirlwind  was  approaching ;  the  sky  was  of  a  milky 
white ;  the  rayless  sun  looked  like  a  burning  millstone ;  and 
a  poisonous  blast  dried  up  the  saliva  in  the  throat,  and  melted 
the  marrow  of  the  bones.  A  noise  was  heard  in  the  distance 
like  that  of  an  angry  sea ;  whirlwinds  of  red  dust  rose  from 
the  sand,  and  mounted  in  columns  to  the  sky,  like  giants  with 
faces  of  fire  and  arms  of  vapor.  Every  where  there  was  des- 
olation, every  where  an  implacable  heat,  and  at  moments  a 
silence  even  more  horrible  than  the  moaning  of  the  simoom. 

Over  this  land,  parched  with  drought,  Hamama  advanced 
slowly,  with  panting  breath  and  palpitating  sides.  Her  mas- 
ter had  the  tranquillity  of  a  man  that  knows  neither  hope  nor 
fear.  He  felt  neither  heat  nor  thirst ;  one  thought  alone 
ruled  his  body  and  soul — to  overtake  the  assassin  and  kill 
him. 

After  an  hour's  march  he  saw  a  horse  stretched  on  the 
sand.  A  little  farther  on  he  heard  something  like  a  sigh.  He 
approached  the  spot.  A  man  lay  in  the  dust  perishing  with 
thirst,  and  without  strength  to  utter  a  cry.  It  was  the  son  of 
Mansour.  His  eyes  were  starting  from  his  head,  his  mouth 
was  wide  open,  and  his  hands  were  pressed  to  his  panting 
chest.  Delirious  with  pain,  he  did  not  recognize  Abdallah  ; 


348  Fairy  Book. 

all  that  he  could  do  was  to  carry  his  fingers  to  his  parched 
throat. 

"  Yes,  you  shall  have  water,"  said  the  Bedouin ;  "  not  in 
this  way  shall  you  die." 

He  dismounted  from  his  horse,  took  a  skin  of  water  from 
the  saddle-bow,  and,  after  throwing  away  Omar's  pistols  and 
sabre,  put  it  to  the  lips  of  the  dying  man.  Omar  drank  deep- 
ly of  the  water  which  restored  his  life,  and  found  himself  face 
to  face  with  Abdallah. 

"  You  have  saved  me,"  murmured  he ;  "I  recognize  your 
inexhaustible  goodness.  You  are  a  brother  to  those  who 
have  no  brothers,  a  life-giving  dew  to  the  unfortunate." 

"  Son  of  Mansour,  you  must  die,"  said  the  young  man. 

"  Pardon,  my  brother !"  cried  the  merchant,  recovering  the 
consciousness  of  danger  ;  "  you  have  not  saved  my  life  to  put 
me  to  death  !  Pardon,  in  the  name  of  what  is  dearest  to  you 
on  earth — pardon,  in  the  name  of  her  who  nourished  us 
both." 

" Halima  curses  you,"  returned  Abdallah  ;  "you  must  die." 

Terrified  at  the  sinister  air  of  the  Bedouin,  Omar  fell  on  his 
knees.  "  My  brother,  I  acknowledge  my  guilt,"  said  he.  "  I 
have  deserved  your  anger ;  but,  however  great  my  fault,  can 
I  not  redeem  it  ?  Take  all  my  fortune  ;  be  the  richest  man 
in  Arabia." 

"  You  have  killed  Hafiz — you  have  killed  Leila  ;  you  must 
die,"  said  Abdallah. 

"  Leila  dead !"  exclaimed  the  son  of  Mansour,  bursting  into 
tears;  "it  can  not  be.  Her  blood  be  on  her  murderer's 
head  ;  I  am  not  guilty  of  it.  Spare  me,  Abdallah  ;  have  pity 
on  me." 

"  As  well  implore  the  gates  of  the  tomb,"  replied  the  son  of 
Yusuf.  "  Make  haste,"  he  added,  drawing  his  sabre.  "  May 
God  give  you  patience  to  endure  the  affliction  he  sends  you." 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     349 

"  At  least,  my  brother,"  returned  Omar,  in  a  voice  of  emo- 
tion, "  give  me  time  for  a  last  prayer.  You  would  not  have 
the  angel  of  death  seize  me  before  I  have  implored  the  mercy 
of  God?" 

"  Say  your  prayers,"  replied  Abdallah. 

The  merchant  unrolled  his  turban  and  spread  it  before 
him ;  then,  throwing  his  robe  over  his  shoulders  and  bowing 
his  head,  he  awaited  the  death-blow. 

"God  is  great!"  he  murmured;  "there  is  no  strength  nor 
power  but  in  God.  To  him  we  belong ;  to  him  we  must  re- 
turn. O  God !  sovereign  of  the  day  of  retribution,  deliver 
me  from  the  fires  of  hell ;  have  pity  on  me." 

Abdallah  gazed  at  him,  weeping.  "  It  must  be,"  he  said 
to  himself — "it  must  be;"  yet  his  heart  failed  him.  This 
wretch  was  his  brother ;  he  had  lov^  him — he  still  loved  him. 
When  love  has  once  entered  the  soul,  it  lodges  there  like  the 
ball  in  the  flesh ;  tear  it  out  if  you  will,  the  wound  still  re- 
mains. In  vain  the  son  of  Yusuf  sought  to  rouse  his  courage 
by  calling  to  mind  the  images  of  his  slaughtered  uncle  and 
dying  wife  ;  despite  himself,  he  could  see  nothing  but  the 
happy  days  of  childhood,  Halima  clasping  both  her  children 
to  her  breast,  and  old  Hafiz  taking  them  in  his  arms  to  tell 
them  of  his  adventures  in  battle.  The  pleasures  they  had 
shared,  the  sorrows  they  had  had  in  common,  all  these  sweet 
recollections  rose  from  the  past  to  protect  the  son  of  Man- 
sour.  Strange  to  say,  the  victims  themselves  appeared  to  ask 
pardon  for  the  assassin.  "  He  is  thy  brother,  and  defense- 
less," said  the  old  soldier.  "  He  is  thy  brother,"  cried  Leila, 
in  tears ;  "  do  not  slay  him."  "  No,  no,"  murmured  the  young 
man,  repulsing  the  beloved  phantoms,  "  it  must  be.  Not  to 
punish  crime  is  to  betray  justice." 

In  spite  of  the  trouble  of  the  son  of  Mansour,  Abdallah's 
hesitation  did  not  escape  his  keen  eye.  Bathed  in  tears,  he 


350 


Fairy  Book. 


clasped  the  knees  of  his  judge.  "  Oh,  my  brother,"  he  said, 
"  do  not  add  thy  iniquity  to  mine.  Remember  what  Abel  said 
to  his  brother  when  threatened  by  him  :  '  If  thou  stretchest 
forth  thine  hand  to  slay  me,  I  will  not  stretch  forth  my  hand 
against  thee  to  slay  thee  ;  for  I  fear  God,  the  lord  of  all  crea- 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     351 

tures.'  Alas !  my  folly  has  been  greater  than  that  of  Cain. 
Thou  hast  a  right  to  kill  me ;  my  life  is  too  little  to  expiate 
the  crime  to  which  I  have  been  led  by  my  passions.  But  the 
forgiving  God  loves  those  who  follow  his  example ;  he  has 
promised  indulgence  to  those  who  remember  him ;  leave  me 
to  repent.  He  has  promised  a  paradise  whose  breadth  equal- 
eth  the  heavens  and  the  earth  to  those  who  bridle  their  anger  ; 
pardon  me  that  God  may  show  thee  mercy,  for  God  loveth  the 
beneficent." 

"  Rise !"  said  Abdallah ; "  thy  words  have  saved  thee.  Venge- 
ance belongs  to  God  alone.  Let  the  Lord  be  thy  judge ;  I 
will  not  dip  my  hands  in  the  blood  of  him  whom  my  mother 
has  nursed." 

"  Wilt  thou  abandon  me  here  ?"  said  Omar,  looking  round 
him  anxiously ;  "  it  would  be  more  cruel  than  to  slay  me." 

For  his  sole  answer,  Abdallah  pointed  to  Hamama.  Omar 
sprang  on  the  mare,  and,  without  turning  his  head,  buried  his 
spurs  in  her  flanks  and  disappeared. 

"  Well,"  thought  he,  as  he  rode  through  the  billows  of  sand 
upheaved  by  the  wind,  "  if  I  escape  the  simoom,  I  am  saved 
from  the  peril  predicted  me.  This  Abdallah  is  very  impru- 
dent to  remain  in  the  desert  in  such  weather,  alone,  without  a 
horse,  and  without  water.  No  matter ;  his  folly  be  on  his  own 
head.  I  will  forget  these  accursed  Bedouins,  who  have  never 
brought  me  any  thing  but  misfortume.  The  time  has  come 
at  last  to  live  for  myself." 


35 2  Fairy  Book. 

XXIX. 

THE   DIAMOND   LEAF. 

THE  wicked  laugheth  in  his  heart  at  his  success,  and  saith, 
"  I  am  cunning,  and  cunning  is  the  queen  of  the  world."  The 
just  submitteth  to  whatever  may  befall  him,  and  saith,  lifting 
his  hands  to  heaven,  "  O  Lord,  thou  causeth  to  err  whom 
thou  pleaseth,  and  directeth  whom  thou  pleaseth;  thou  art 
the  mighty,  and  the  wise ;  what  thou  doeth  is  well  done." 

Abdallah  turned  his  steps  homeward  with  profound  sad- 
ness. His  soul  was  still  troubled  ;  he  had  expelled  its  anger, 
but  could  not  uproot  its  grief.  Large  tears  trickled  down  his 
face,  while  he  made  vain  efforts  to  check  them.  "  Forgive 
me,  O  Lord,"  he  cried ;  "  be  indulgent  to  the  weakness  of  a 
heart  that  can  not  submit.  The  prophet  has  said, '  The  eyes 
are  made  for  tears  and  the  flesh  for  affliction.'  Glory  to  him 
who  holdeth  the  dominion  over  all  things  in  his  hands !  May 
he  give  me  strength  to  endure  what  he  has  willed !" 

He  walked  on  thus  in  prayer  amid  the  sands  and  the  fiery 
whirlwinds ;  heat  and  fatigue  soon  forced  him  to  stop.  The 
blood  in  his  veins  was  turned  to  fire ;  a  strange  disorder 
troubled  his  brain,  and  he  was  no  longer  the  master  either  of 
his  senses  or  thoughts.  Devoured  with  a  burning  thirst,  at 
moments  both  sight  and  hearing  deserted  him ;  then  he  saw 
in  the  distance  gardens  full  of  verdure  and  lakes  bordered 
with  flowers ;  the  wind  whistled  through  the  trees,  and  a 
spring  gushed  from  among  the  grass.  At  this  refreshing 
sight,  he  dragged  himself  toward  these  enchanting  waters. 
Vain  illusion !  gardens  and  running  springs  all  vanished  at 
his  approach ;  there  was  naught  about  him  but  sand  and  fire. 
Exhausted  and  breathless,  Abdallah  felt  that  his  last  hour  was 
approaching.  "  There  is  no  god  but  God,  and  Mohammed  is 
his  prophet,"  he  cried.  "  It  is  written  that  I  shall  never  de- 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.    353 

part  from  this  place.  O  Lord,  come  to  my  aid  \  remove  far 
from  me  the  horrors  of  death !" 

He  knelt  and  washed  his  face  with  the  sand  of  the  desert ; 
then,  drawing  his  sabre,  began  to  dig  his  own  tomb. 

As  he  began  to  stir  the  earth,  it  suddenly  seemed  to  him 
that  the  simoom  had  vanished.  The  horizon  lighted  up  with 
a  glow  softer  than  the  dawn,  and  the  clouds  slowly  opened 
like  the  curtains  of  a  tent.  Was  it  the  mirage  ?  None  can 
tell ;  but  Abdallah  stood  mute  with  surprise  and  admiration. 
Before  him  bloomed  a  vast  garden,  watered  by  brooks  flowing 
in  all  directions.  Trees  with  trunks  of  gold,  leaves  of  emer- 
ald, and  fruits  of  topaz  and  ruby,  covered  broad  lawns,  enam- 
eled with  strange  flowers,  with  their  luxuriant  shade.  Beauti- 
ful youths,  clad  in  green  satin  and  adorned  with  costly  jewels, 
reclined  on  magnificent  cushions  and  carpets,  looking  lovingly 
at  each  other,  and  drinking  from  silver  cups  that  water,  whiter 
than  milk  and  sweeter  than  honey,  which  quencheth  the  thirst 
forever.  By  the  side  of  the  youths  stood  enchanting  maidens, 
with  large  black  eyes  and  modest  mien.  Created  of  the  light, 
and  like  it  transparent,  their  grace  ravished  the  eyes  and  the 
heart;  their  face  shone  with  a  softer  lustre  than  the  moon 
emerging  from  the  clouds.  In  this  kingdom  of  delights  and 
peace,  these  happy  couples  were  smilingly  conversing,  while 
lovely  children,  eternally  young,  surrounded  them  like  strings 
of  pearl,  each  holding  a  vase  more  sparkling  than  crystal,  and 
pouring  out  for  the  blessed  that  inexhaustible  liquor  which 
never  intoxicates,  and  the  taste  of  which  is  more  delicious 
than  the  fragrance  of  the  pink.  In  the  distance  was  heard 
the  angel  Israfil,  the  most  melodious  of  the  creatures  of  God. 
The  houris  joined  their  enchanting  voices  to  the  notes  of  the 
angel,  and  the  very  trees  rustled  their  leaves,  and  celebrated 
the  divine  praise  with  a  harmony  exceeding  all  that  man  has 
ever  dreamed. 


354  Fairy  Book. 

While  Abdallah  admired  these  marvels  in  silence,  an  angel 
descended  toward  him  ;  not  the  terrible  Azrael,  but  the  mes- 
senger of  celestial  favors,  the  good  and  lovely  Gabriel.  He 
held  in  his  hand  a  tiny  diamond  leaf;  but,  small  as  it  was,  it 
shed  a  light  that  illumined  the  whole  desert.  His  soul  intox- 
icated with  joy,  the  son  of  Yusuf  ran  to  meet  the  angel.  He 
paused  in  terror ;  at  his  feet  was  a  vast  gulf,  full  of  fire  and 
smoke,  bridged  only  by  an  immense  arch  made  of  a  blade  of 
steel,  which  was  finer  than  a  hair  and  sharper  than  a  razor. 

The  Bedouin  was  already  seized  with  despair,  when  he  felt 
himself  supported  and  urged  on  by  an  invisible  power.  Hafiz 
and  Leila  were  on  either  side  of  him.  He  did  not  see  them  ; 
he  dared  not  turn  for  fear  of  awaking  ;  but  he  felt  their  pres- 
ence, he  heard  their  soothing  words  ;  both  supported  and  car- 
ried him  along  with  them.  "  In  the  name  of  the  clement  and 
merciful  God  !"  he  cried.  At  these  words,  which  are  the  key 
to  Paradise,  he  was  transported,  like  lightning,  to  the  other 
side  of  the  bridge.  The  angel  was  there,  holding  out  the 
mysterious  flower.  The  young  man  seized  it.  At  last  the 
four-leaved  clover  was  his,  the  ardor  of  desire  was  quenched, 
the  veil  of  the  body  was  lifted,  the  hour  of  recompense  had 
struck.  Gabriel  turned  his  eyes  toward  the  bottom  of  the 
garden,  where  divine  majesty  was  enthroned.  Abdallah's 
glance  followed  that  of  the  angel,  and  the  eternal  splendor 
flashed  in  his  face.  At  this  lustre,  which  no  eye  can  endure, 
he  fell  with  his  face  to  the  ground,  uttering  a  loud  cry. 

This  cry  man's  ear  has  never  heard,  man's  voice  has  never 
repeated.  The  delirious  joy  of  the  shipwrecked  mariner  who 
escapes  the  fury  of  the  waves,  the  delight  of  the  bridegroom 
who  presses  his  beloved  for  the  first  time  to  his  heart,  the 
transports  of  the  mother  who  finds  the  son  whom  she  has  wept 
— all  the  joys  of  earth  are  naught  but  mourning  and  sorrow 
to  the  cry  of  happiness  which  rose  from  the  soul  of  Abdallah; 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     355 

At  this  voice,  repeated  afar  by  the  echoes,  the  earth  re- 
sumed the  beauty  of  its  days  of  innocence  and  blossomed  with 
the  flowers  of  Paradise  ;  the  sky,  bluer  than  sapphire,  seemed 
to  smile  upon  the  earth;  then  gradually  silence  fell  on  all 
things,  the  heavens  darkened,  and  the  whirlwind  regained  do- 
minion of  the  desert. 


XXX. 

THE   HAPPINESS   OF   OMAR. 

ON  re-entering  his  house  at  Djiddah,  the  son  of  Mansour 
experienced  the  joy  of  a  criminal  escaped  from  death;  he 
shut  himself  up  to  regain  his  composure,  and  again  viewed 
his  wealth  and  handled  his  gold ;  it  was  his  life  and  his  pow- 
er !  Did  not  his  treasures  give  him  the  means  to  subjugate 
men  and  the  right  to  despise  them  ? 

Nevertheless,  the  pleasure  of  Omar  was  not  unmixed  ;  there 
was  still  more  than  one  danger  in  perspective.  If  Abdallah 
reached  home,  might  he  not  regret  his  clemency?  If  he 
should  die  in  the  desert,  would  he  not  have  an  avenger? 
Might  not  the  sherif  think  himself  offended  ?  Might  not  the 
pacha  set  an  extortionate  price  on  his  protection  ?  The  son 
of  Mansour  drove  away  these  importunate  thoughts.  "  Why 
be  terrified,"  thought  he,  "  when  the  most  imminent  peril  is 
past,  thanks  to  my  address?  Am  I  at  the  end  of  my  re- 
sources ?  My  real  enemies  have  fallen  ;  shall  I  not  overcome 
the  others  ?  Life  is  a  treasure  that  diminishes  daily ;  what 
folly  to  waste  it  in  vain  anxieties !  How  difficult  it  is  to  be 
perfectly  happy  here  on  earth  !" 

These  reasonable  fears  were  followed  by  other  cares  which 
astonished  the  son  of  Mansour.  In  spite  of  himself,  he  thought 
of  old  Hafiz  whom  he  had  murdered ;  nor  could  he  put  aside 


356  Fairy  Book. 

the  remembrance  of  Leila,  or  of  his  brother  dying  in  the  des- 
ert, the  victim  of  a  generous  devotion. 

"  Away  with  these  foolish  imaginings,  that  whiten  the  beard 
before  the  time  !"  cried  he.  "  What  weakness  to  think  of  such 
things  !  Can  I  change  destiny  ?  If  old  Hafiz  is  no  more,  it 
is  because  his  time  had  come.  On  the  day  that  Abdallah  was 
born,  his  death  was  written  before  God.  Why  shall  I,  there- 
fore, trouble  myself?  Am  I  not  rich?  I  buy  the  conscience 
of  others  ;  I  will  buy  repose  for  my  own  heart." 

It  was  in  vain  for  him  to  try ;  his  soul  was  like  the  restless 
ocean,  which,  unable  to  appease  its  angry  waves,  casts  up  mire 
and  foam  upon  the  shore.  "  I  must  gain  time,"  thought  he ; 
"  these  feelings  are  nothing  but  a  remnant  of  agitation,  which 
fools  call  remorse,  but  which  is  nothing  but  a  little  fatigue 
and  feverishness.  I  know  how  to  cure  it ;  I  have  a  wine  of 
Shiraz  which  has  more  than  once  consoled  me  ;  why  not  seek 
patience  and  forgetfulness  therein  ?" 

He  went  to  his  harem,  and  called  a  Persian  slave  with  an 
enchanting  voice — a  heretic  who  was  not  shocked  at  the  use 
of  the  cup,  and  who  poured  out  with  infernal  grace  this  poison 
accursed  by  all  true  Mussulmen. 

"  How  pale  you  are,  master !"  said  she,  on  seeing  the  dis- 
composed features  of  the  son  of  Mansour. 

"  It  is  the  fatigue  from  a  long  journey,"  answered  Omar. 
"  Pour  me  some  wine,  and  sing  me  one  of  the  songs  of  your 
country,  to  drive  away  care  and  bring  back  mirth." 

The  slave  brought  two  crystal  cups  set  in  gold,  which  she 
filled  with  a  liquor  as  yellow  as  gold  and  as  clear  as  amber ; 
then,  taking  a  tambourine,  she  struck  it  alternately  with  her 
hand  and  elbow,  and  waved  it  over  her  head,  while  she  sang 
one  of  the  perfumed  odes  of  the  Bulbul  of  Shiraz. 

"  Pass  round  the  flowing  bowl,  child, 
Filled  to  the  brim  with  bright  wine  ; 


Abdallah  ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.    357 

All  the  ills  and  the  woes  of  life 

Are  healed  in  this  juice  divine. 
Has  Time  writ  his  lines  on  thy  brow  ? 

Has  sleep  through  the  night  fled  thine  eyes? 
Cast  into  these  liquid  flames 

Thy  regretful  cares  and  thy  sighs. 

"  Away  with  that  drinker  morose, 

Who  mourns  for  the  years  that  are  gone  ; 
In  these  wines  of  amber  and  rose 

The  flowers  and  the  spring  live  on. 
Are  the  roses  dead  in  thy  bowers  ? 

Has  the  nightingale  left  thee  alone  ? 
Drink,  drink,  and  the  clink  of  the  glass 

Shall  be  sweet  as  the  bulbul's  tone. 

"  Leave  Fortune,  the  treacherous  sprite, 

To  the  weak  or  the  wicked  throng  ; 
What  good  can  she  gi  ve  us  more, 

Since  she  leaves  us  wine  and  song  ? 
The  false  one,  lightly  betrayed, 

Nightly  in  visions  I  see  ; 
Oh,  wine,  give  me  back  the  sweet  dream  I 

Oblivion  and  love  are  in  thee." 

"  Yes,  give  me  oblivion,"  cried  the  son  of  Mansour.  "  I 
know  not  what  is  the  matter  with  me  to-day ;  this  wine  sad- 
dens instead  of  diverting  me.  Strike  your  instrument  louder, 
sing  faster,  make  more  noise,  intoxicate  me." 

The  beautiful  Persian  sang  merrily,  striking  her  tambour- 
ine : 

"  Hafiz,  thou  squanderest  life  ; 

'  In  the  wine-cup  death  lurks,'  say  the  old; 
Oh  sages,  he  envies  you  not, 

Nor  your  snowy  locks  nor  your  gold. 
You  may  chide  him,  but  still  he  will  drink ; 

Day  and  night  he  will  still  drink  deep, 
For  wine  only  can  cause  him  to  smile, 

Wine  only  can  cause  him  to  weep." 

"  Curses  on  you !"  cried  Omar,  raising  his  hand  to  strike 
the  slave,  who  fled  affrighted.  "  What  name  do  you  bring 
me  ?  Can  not  the  dead  rest  in  their  graves  ?  Will  they  come 
even  here  to  trouble  my  repose  ?  After  ridding  myself  of  my 


35 8  Fairy  Book. 

enemies,  shall  I  care  for  phantoms  ?  Away  with  these  chime- 
ras !  I  will  tear  out  these  memories  from  my  heart ;  in  spite 
of  them  all,  I  will  laugh  and  be  happy."  As  he  said  this,  he 
uttered  a  cry  of  terror.  Cafour  stood  before  him. 

"  Where  do  you  come  from,  child  of  the  devil  ?"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  What  are  you  doing  in  my  house  ?" 

"  That  is  what  I  wish  to  know,"  answered  the  child ;  "  it 
was  not  by  my  will  that  your  servants  carried  me  to  your 
harem." 

"  Begone !  I  do  not  wish  to  see  you." 

"  I  will  not  go  till  you  have  given  me  back  my  mistress.  I 
belong  to  Leila ;  I  wish  to  serve  her." 

"Your  mistress  has  no  more  need  of  your  services." 

"Why?"  said  the  negress. 

"Why?"  replied  the  son  of  Mansour,  in  a  broken  voice. 
"  You  will  know  by-and-by.  Leila  is  in  the  desert ;  go  and 
find  her." 

"  No,"  said  Cafour,  "  I  shall  stay  here,  and  wait  for  Ab- 
dallah." 

"Abdallah  is  not  in  my  house." 

"  He  is  ;  I. have  seen  his  horse." 

"My  servants  brought  away  the  horse  at  the  same,  time 
with  you." 

"  No,  they  did  not,"  returned  Cafour ;  "  before  your  serv- 
ants seized  me,  I  had  let  Hamama  loose.  She  was  more  for- 
tunate than  I ;  she  escaped.  If  she  is  here,  Abdallah  must 
be  here  too  ;  if  not,  what  have  you  done  with  your  brother  ?" 

"  Away  from  here,  insolent  wretch ;  I  will  not  be  question- 
ed by  you.  Dread  my  anger ;  I  can  cause  you  to  die  under 
the  bastinado."  His  eyes  glared  at  these  words  like  a  mad- 
man's. 

"  Why  do  you  threaten  me  ?"  said  Cafour,  in  a  milder  tone. 
"  Although  I  am  but  a  slave,  perhaps  I  can  serve  you.  You 


Abdallah ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     359 

have  some  hidden  trouble ;  I  see  it  in  your  face.  This  trouble 
I  can  dispel.  In  my  country  we  have  spells  to  cure  the  heart. 
Were  sorrow  or  even  remorse  preying  upon  your  soul,  I  could 
draw  it  thence  as  the  bezoar  stone  draws  the  venom  from  a 
wound." 

"  You  have  this  power,  a  child  like  you !"  said  Omar,  iron- 
ically, looking  at  Cafour,  whose  eyes  steadfastly  met  his  gaze. 
"Why  not?"  he  added;  "these  Maghrebi  negroes  are  all  chil- 
dren of  Satan  ;  they  know  their  father's  secrets.  Well,  yes,  I 
have  a  sorrow  ;  cure  me,  and  I  will  reward  you." 

"  Have  you  any  hasheesh  in  your  house  ?"  said  Cafour. 
"  Let  me  mix  you  a  drink  ;  I  will  restore  your  gayety." 

"Do  what  you  will,"  replied  Omar.  "You  are  a  slave; 
you  know  that  I  am  rich  and  generous.  I  have  confidence 
in  you ;  I  wish  at  any  price  to  enjoy  life." 

Cafour  soon  found  the  hasheesh  leaves.  She  brought  them 
to  the  son  of  Mansour,  who  followed  her  movements  with  an 
eager  eye.  She  took  the  plant,  washed  it  three  times,  and 
rubbed  it  in  her  hands,  muttering  strange  words.  She  then 
pounded  the  leaves  in  a  copper  mortar,  and  mixed  them  with 
spices  and  milk.  "  Here  is  the  cup  of  oblivion,"  said  she ; 
"  drink  and  fear  nothing." 

No  sooner  had  Omar  drank  than  he  felt  his  head  suddenly 
grow  light ;  his  eyes  dilated,  and  his  senses  became  marvel- 
ously  acute,  yet,  strange  to  say,  he  seemed  moved  by  the  will 
of  Cafour.  If  she  sang,  he  repeated  the  song ;  if  she  laughed, 
he  burst  into  shouts  of  merriment ;  if  she  was  grave,  he  wept ; 
if  she  threatened  him,  he  trembled.  As  soon  as  the  negress 
saw  him  in  her  power,  she  set  to  work  to  wrest  his  secret  from 
him. 

"  You  are  satisfied,"  said  she ;  "  you  are  avenged  on  your 
enemies  ?" 

"Yes,  I   am    satisfied."    said   Omar,  laughing;    "I    am 


360  Fairy  Book. 

avenged.  The  beautiful  Leila  will  no  longer  love  her  Bed- 
ouin." 

"  Is  she  dead  ?"  asked  Cafour,  in  a  trembling  voice. 

"  She  is  dead,"  said  Omar,  weeping ;  "  but  I  did  not  kill 
her  :  it  was  the  negro.  Poor  woman !  she  would  have  been  so 
well  off  in  my  harem !" 

"  And  you  no  longer  fear  Abdallah !"  said  Cafour,  with  an 
exulting  air. 

"  No,  I  do  not  fear  him.  I  took  his  horse,  and  left  him 
alone  in  the  desert  exposed  to  the  simoom.  He  will  never 
more  quit  it." 

"  Lost  in  the  sands — dead,  perhaps !"  cried  Cafour,  tearing 
her  clothes. 

"  How  could  it  be  helped  !"  said  Omar,  in  a  plaintive  voice. 
"  It  was  destiny.  It  had  been  predicted  to  me  that  my  best 
friend  would  be  my  worst  enemy.  The  dead  always  love  you ; 
they  harm  no  one." 

"  What  friend  had  you  to  fear,  you  who  had  never  loved  any 
human  being  ?"  cried  the  negress.  "  Hold !"  she  added,  struck 
with  a  sudden  inspiration ;  "  shall  I  show  you  this  friend  who 
will  cause  your  death  ?" 

"No,  no,"  exclaimed  Omar,  trembling  like  a  child  threat- 
ened with  the  rod.  "  Amuse  me,  Cafour ;  do  not  make  me 
sad." 

"  Look,"  said  the  slave,  placing  a  mirror  before  his  eyes. 
"  See  the  assassin  of  Hafiz — see  the  murderer  of  Leila — see 
the  fratricide — see  the  villain — see  him  for  whom  there  is  no 
more  repose  !  Wretch  !  you  have  loved  no  one  but  yourself; 
your  selfishness  has  been  your  ruin — your  selfishness  will  be 
your  death." 

At  the  sight  of  her  contracted  features  and  haggard  eyes 
Omar  stood  terrified.  A  new  light  dawned  on  his  soul ;  he 
abhorred  himself,  and  tore  his  beard  in  despair.  Shame  soon 


Abdallak ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     361 

restored  his  consciousness  :  he  looked  around  him,  and,  at  the 
sight  of  Cafour  possessed  of  his  secret,  he  fell  into  a  parox- 
ysm of  rage.  "  Wait,  child  of  perdition !"  he  cried,  "  I  will 
punish  your  insolence ;  I  will  send  you  to  join  your  Abdallah." 

Giddy  as  he  was,  he  attempted  to  rise  ;  his  foot  slipped  ;  he 
struck  against  the  table,  and  dragged  the  lamp  with  him  in 
his  fall ;  his  clothes  caught  fire,  and  in  an  instant  his  whole 
body  was  in  flames.  "  Die,  villain !"  cried  Cafour ;  "  die  like 
a  dog !  Abdallah  is  avenged  !" 

The  son  of  Mansour  uttered  lamentable  shrieks,  which 
reached  the  inmates  of  the  harem.  They  ran  to  his  aid.  At 
the  sound  of  their  footsteps,  Cafour  set  her  foot  on  the  face 
of  Omar,  and  with  a  bound  sprang  to  the  outer  door  and  dis- 
appeared. 

XXXI. 

TWO    FRIENDS. 

WHILE  the  slaves  flew  to  the  succor  of  the  son  of  Mansour, 
Cafour  saddled  Hamama,  took  a  skin  of  water  and  some  pro- 
visions, and  galloped  through  the  narrow  streets  of  Djiddah. 
The  night  was  dark,  and  the  storm  was  rumbling  in  the  dis- 
tance. 

The  child  began  to  stroke  the  horse  and  talk  to  it,  as  if  the 
brute  understood  the  language  of  men.  "  Oh,  dear  Hamama," 
said  she, "  take  me  to  your  master.  Together,  we  will  save 
Abdallah.  You  know  how  much  he  loves  you ;  no  other 
hand  has  cared  for  you ;  help  me  to  find  him.  Thanks  to 
you,  I  will  restore  him  to  his  mother ;  together  we  will  weep 
for  Leila,  and  I  will  comfort  him.  Do  this,  dear  Hamama, 
and  I  will  love  you."  She  embraced  the  horse,  and,  stretch- 
ing herself  along  the  neck  of  the  animal,  gave  it  full  rein. 
Hamama  darted  onward  like  an  arrow,  as  if  led  by  an  invis- 

Q 


362  Fairy  Book. 

ible  hand.  As  she  rushed  past  an  Arnaut  post  at  daybreak, 
the  frightened  sentinel  discharged  his  gun,  declaring  that  he 
had  seen  Satan  mounted  on  a  white  horse  fleeter  than  the 
wind. 

Thus  flew  Hamama,  without  pausing  or  needing  to  drink. 
A  strange  instinct  impelled  her  toward  her  master.  She  went 
straight  toward  him,  regardless  of  the  beaten  track,  over  rocks, 
through  beds  of  rivers  and  across  deep  gullies,  with  God  for  a 
guide. 

Toward  midday  Cafour  perceived  Abdallah  in  the  distance, 
prostrate  on  the  sand,  as  if  in  prayer.  "  Master  !  master !" 
she  cried,  "here  I  am."  But  neither  the  tread  of  the  horse 
nor  the  cries  of  the  child  roused  Abdallah  from  his  contem- 
plation. Hamama  stopped,  but  he  did  not  stir.  Cafour, 
trembling,  ran  to  him.  He  seemed  asleep  ;  his  face  was  beam- 
ing with  ecstasy ;  a  heavenly  smile  was  on  his  lips ;  sorrow 
had  fled  that  countenance  which  had  been  a  prey  to  such  suf- 
fering. "  Master !  master !  speak  to  me,"  cried  the  poor  slave, 
clasping  him  in  her  arms.  He  was  cold  ;  life  had  quitted  the 
mortal  covering ;  God  had  called  to  himself  this  spirit  made 
for  heaven. 

"  Abdallah !"  cried  Cafour,  throwing  herself  on  him  and  cov- 
ering him  with  kisses,  "  Abdallah,  I  loved  thee !"  And  she 
rendered  up  her  soul  to  God. 

Hamama  gazed  long  at  the  two  friends  with  anxiety,  and 
laid  her  burning  nostrils  again  and  again  on  Cafour's  cheek ; 
then  she  stretched  herself  on  the  sand,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on 
the  two  bodies,  to  await  the  awakening  of  those  who  were 
never  to  wake  again  on  earth. 

Long  after,  some  Bedouins,  wandering  in  the  desert,  discov- 
ered Abdallah  and  Cafour  in  the  sands,  so  closely  embraced 
that  it  was  necessary  to  put  them  both  into  the  same  coffin. 
Strange  to  say,  the  beasts  of  prey  had  devoured  the  horse,  but 


Abdallak ;  or,  The  Four-leaved  Clover.     363 

not  a  vulture  had  alighted  by  day  on  the  head  of  Abdallah, 
not  a  jackal  had  touched  by  night  the  body  of  Cafour. 

Under  the  shade  of  the  palms  by  the  Well  of  the  Benedic- 
tion, two  mounds  of  earth,  surrounded  with  stones  to  keep  off 
the  jackals,  mark  the  spot  where  the  Bedouin,  the  Egyptian, 
and  the  negress  await  together  the  day  of  judgment.  The 
fragrant  jessamine,  trailing  from  the  branches  of  the  trees,  fes- 
toons the  tomb,  and  surrounds  it  all  the  year  with  odorous 
blossoms.  Here  the  weeping  Halima  mourned  her  children, 
till  summoned  by  Azrael  to  join  them  ;  and  here  the  wearied 
travelers  pause,  before  quenching  their  thirst  at  the  blessed 
well,  to  recite  a  Fat-hah  in  honor  of  Abdallah,  well  named 
the  servant  of  God/* 

*  Abdallah,  in  Arabic,  signifies  the  servant  of  God. 


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GIBBON'S  ROME.  The  History  of  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  the 
Roman  Empire.  By  EDWARD  GIBBON.  With  Notes  by  Dean 
MILMAN,  M.  GCIZOT,  and  Dr.  WILLIAM  SMITH.  New  Edi- 
tion, from  New  Electrotype  Plates.  6  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  with 
Paper  Labels,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $12  00;  Sheep, 
$15  00 ;  Half  Calf,  $25  50.  Sold  only  in  Sets.  Popular  Edi~ 
tion,  6  vols.,  in  a  Box,  1 2mo,  Cloth,  $3  00 ;  Sheep,  $6  00. 


2  Valuable  Works  for  Public  and  Private  Libraries. 

GOLDSMITH'S  WORKS.  The  Works  of  Oliver  Goldsmith. 
Edited  by  PETER  CUNNINGHAM,  F.S.A.  From  New  Electro- 
type Plates.  4  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  Paper  Labels,  Uncut  Edges 
and  Gilt  Tops,  $8  00  ;  Sheep,  $10  00;  Half  Calf,  $17  00. 

MOTLEY'S  LETTERS.  The  Correspondence  of  John  Lothrop 
Motley,  D.C.L.,  Author  of  "The  United  Netherlands,"  "John  of 
Barneveld,"  "The  Rise  of  the  Dutch  Republic,"  etc.  Edited  by 
GEORGE  WILLIAM  CURTIS.  With  Portrait.  Two  Volumes, 
8vo,  Cloth,  $7  00. 

MOTLEY'S  DUTCH  REPUBLIC.  The  Rise  of  the  Dutch  Re- 
public. A  History.  By  JOHN  LOTHROP  MOTLEY,  LL.D., 
D.C.L.  With  a  Portrait  of  William  of  Orange.  Cheap  Edi- 
tion, 3  vols.,  in  a  Box.  8vo,  Cloth,  with  Paper  Labels,  Uncut 
Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $6  00 ;  Sheep,  $7  50 ;  Half  Calf,  $12  75. 
Sold  only  in  Sets.  Library  Edition,  3  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $10  50. • 

MOTLEY'S  UNITED  NETHERLANDS.  History  of  the  Unit- 
ed Netherlands :  From  the  Death  of  William  the  Silent  to  the 
Twelve  Years'  Truce—  1584-1609.  With  a  full  View  of  the 
English-Dutch  Struggle  against  Spain,  and  of  the  Origin  and 
Destruction  of  the  Spanish  Armada.  By  JOHN  LOTHROP  MOT- 
LET,  LL.D.,  D.C.L.  Portraits.  Cheap  Edition,  4  vols.,  in  a 
Box,  8vo,  Cloth,  with  Paper  Labels,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops, 
$8  00  ;  Sheep,  $10  00 ;  Half  Calf,  $17  00.  Sold  only  in  Sets. 
Original  Library  Edition,  4  vola.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $14  00. 

MOTLEY'S  JOHN  OF  BARNEVELD.  The  Life  and  Death  of 
John  of  Barneveld,  Advocate  of  Holland.  With  a  View  of  the 
Primary  Causes  and  Movements  of  the  "Thirty  .Years'  War." 
By  JOHN  LOTHROP  MOTLEY,  LL.D.,  D.C.L.  Illustrated. 
Cheap  Edition,  2  vols.,  in  a  Box,  8vo,  Cloth,  with  Paper  La- 
bels, Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $4  00 :  Sheep,  $5  00 ;  Half 
Calf,  $8  50.  Sold  only  in  Sets.  Original  Library  Edition,  2 
vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $7  00*. 

HILDRETH'S  UNITED  STATES.  History  of  the  United 
States.  FIRST  SERIES  :  From  the  Discovery  of  the  Continent 
to  the  Organization  of  the  Government  under  the  Federal  Con- 
stitution. SECOND  SERIES  :  From  the  Adoption  of  the  Federal 
Constitution  to  the  End  of  the  Sixteenth  Congress.  By  RICH- 
ARD HILDRETH.  Popular  Edition,  6  vols.,  in  a  Box,  8vo, 
Cloth,  with  Paper  Labels,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $12  00 ; 
Sheep,  $15  00 ;  Half  Calf,  $25  50.  Sold  only  in  Sets. 


Valuable  Works  for  Public  and  Private  Libraries.          3 

STORMONTH'S  ENGLISH  DICTIONARY.  A  Dictionary  of 
the  English  Language,  Pronouncing,  Etymological,  and  Ex^ 
pianatory:  embracing  Scientific  and  other  Terms,  Numerous 
Familiar  Terms,  and  a  Copious  Selection  of  Old  English  Words. 
By  the  Rev.  JAMES  STORMONTH.  The  Pronunciation  Revised 
by  the  Rev.  P.  H.  PHELP,  M.A.  Imperial  8vo,  Cloth,  $6  00; 
Half  Roan,  $7  00;  Full  Sheep,  $7  50.  (New  Edition.) 

PARTON'S  CARICATURE.  Caricature  and  Other  Comic  Art, 
in  All  Times  and  Many  Lands.  By  JAMES  PARTON.  203  Illus- 
trations. 8vo,  Cloth,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $5  00;  Half 
Calf,  $7  25. 

DU  CHAILLU'S  LAND  OF  THE  MIDNIGHT  SUN.  Sum- 
mer and  Winter  Journeys  in  Sweden,  Norway,  Lapland,  and 
Northern  Finland.  Bv  PAUL  B.  Du  CHAILLU.  Illustrated. 
2  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $7  50  ;  Half  Calf,  $12  00. 

LOSSING'S  CYCLOPJEDIA  OF  UNITED  STATES  HISTO- 
RY. From  the  Aboriginal  Period  to  1876.  By  B.  J.  LOS- 
SING,  LL.D.  Illustrated  by  2  Steel  Portraits  and  over  1000 
Engravings.  2  vols.,  Royal  8vo,  Cloth,  $10  00 ;  Sheep,  $12  00 ; 
Half  Morocco,  $15  00.  (Sold  by  Subscription  only.) 

LOSSING'S  FIELD-BOOK  OF  THE  REVOLUTION.  Pic- 
torial Field  -  Book  of  the  Revolution  ;  or,  Illustrations  by  Pen 
and  Pencil  of  the  History,  Biography,  Scenery,  Relics,  and  Tra- 
ditions of  the  War  for  Independence.  By  BENSON  J.  LOSSING. 
2  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $H  00;  Sheep  or  Roan,  $15  00;  Half  Calf, 
$18  00. 

LOSSING'S  FIELD-BOOK  OF  THE  WAR  OF  1812.  Pic- 
torial Field-Book  of  the  War  of  1812 ;  or,  Illustrations  by  Pen 
and  Pencil  of  the  History,  Biography,  Scenery,  Relics,  and  Tra- 
ditions of  the  last  War  for  American  Independence.  By  BEN- 
BON  J.  LOSSING.  With  several  hundred  Engravings.  1088 
pages,  8vo,  Cloth,  $7  00;  Sheep  or  Roan,  $8  50;  Half  Calf, 
$10  00. 

MULLER'S  POLITICAL  HISTORY  OF  RECENT  TIMES 
(1816-1875).  With  Special  Reference  to  Germany.  By  WILL- 
IAM MULLER.  Translated,  with  an  Appendix  covering  the 
Period  from  1876  to  1881,  by  the  Rev.  JOHN  P.  PETERS,  Ph.D. 
12mo,  Cloth,  $3  00. 


4  Valuable  Works  for  Public  and  Private  Libraries. 

TREVELYAN'S  LIFE  OF  MACAULAY.  The  Life  and  Let- 
ters  of  Lord  Macaulay.  By  his  Nephew,  G.  OTTO  TREVELYAN, 
M.P.  With  Portrait  on  Steel.  2  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  Uncut 
Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $5  00  ;  Sheep,  $6  00 ;  Half  Calf,  $9  50. 
Popular  Edition,  2  vols.  in  one,  12mo,  Cloth,  $1  75. 

TREVELYAN'S  LIFE  OF  FOX.  The  Early  History  of  Charles 
James  Fox.  By  GEORGE  OTTO  TREVELTAN.  8vo,  Cloth,  Un- 
cut Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $2  50 ;  Half  Calf,  $4  75. 

WRITINGS  AND  SPEECHES  OF  SAMUEL  J.  TILDEN. 
Edited  by  JOHN  BIUELOW.  2  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  Gilt  Tops  and 
Uncut  Edges,  $6  00  per  set. 

GENERAL  DIX'S  MEMOIRS.  Memoirs  of  John  Adams  Dix. 
Compiled  by  his  Son,  MORGAN  Dix.  With  Five  Steel-plate 
Portraits.  2  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  Gilt  Tops  and  Uncut  Edges, 

$5  00. 

HUNT'S  MEMOIR  OF  MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  A  Memoir  of 
Mrs.  Edward  Livingston.  With  Letters  hitherto  Unpublished. 
By  LOUISE  LIVINGSTON  HUNT.  12mo,  Cloth,  $1  25. 

GEORGE  ELIOT'S  LIFE.  George  Eliot's  Life,  Related  in  her 
Letters  and  Journals.  Arranged  and  Edited  by  her  Hus- 
band, J.  W.  CROSS.  Portraits  and  Illustrations.  In  Three 
Volumes.  12mo,  Cloth,  $3  75.  New  Edition,  with  Fresh  Mat- 
ter. (Uniform  with  "Harper's  Library  Edition"  of  George 
Eliot's  Works.) 

PEARS'S  FALL  OF  CONSTANTINOPLE.  The  Fall  of  Con- 
stantinople. Being  the  Story  of  the  Fourth  Crusade.  By 
EDWIN  PEARS,  LL.B.  8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

RANKE'S  UNIVERSAL  HISTORY.  The  Oldest  Historical 
Group  of  Nations  and  the  Greeks.  By  LEOPOLD  VON  RANKE. 
Edited  by  G.  W.  PEOTHERO,  Fellow  and  Tutor  of  King's  Col- 
lege, Cambridge.  Vol.  I.  8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50. 

LIFE  AND  TIMES  OF  THE  REV.  SYDNEY  SMITH.  A 
Sketch  of  the  Life  and  Times  of  the  Rev.  Sydney  Smith. 
Based  on  Family  Documents  and  the  Recollections  of  Personal 
Friends.  By  STUART  J.  REID.  With  Steel-plate  Portrait  and 
Illustrations.  8vo,  Cloth,  $>3  00. 


Valuable  Works  for  Public  and  Private  Libraries.  5 

STANLEY'S  THROUGH  THE  DARK  CONTINENT.  Through 
the  Dark  Continent ;  or,  The  Sources  of  the  Nile,  Around  the 
Great  Lakes  of  Equatorial  Africa,  and  Down  the  Livingstone 
River  to  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  149  Illustrations  and  10  Maps. 
By  H.  M.  STANLEY.  2  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $10  00;  Sheep, 
$12  00;  Half  Morocco,  $15  00. 

STANLEY'S  CONGO.  The  Congo  and  the  Founding  of  its 
Free  State,  a  Story  of  Work  and  Exploration.  With  over  One 
Hundred  Full-page  and  smaller  Illustrations.  Two  Large  Maps, 
and  several  smaller  ones.  By  H.  M.  STANLEY.  2  vols.,  8vo, 
Cloth,  $10  00;  Sheep,  $12  00;  Half  Morocco,  $15  00. 

GREEN'S  ENGLISH  PEOPLE.  History  of  the  English  Peo- 
ple. By  JOHN  RICHARD  GREEN,  M.A.  With  Maps.  4  vols., 
8vo,  Cloth,  $10  00;  Sheep,  $12  00;  Half  Calf,  $19  00. 

GREEN'S  MAKING  OF  ENGLAND.  The  Making  of  Eng- 
land. By  JOHN  RICHARD  GREEN.  With  Maps.  8vo,  Cloth, 
$2  50 ;  Sheep,  $3  00 ;  Half  Calf,  $3  75. 

GREEN'S  CONQUEST  OF  ENGLAND.  The  Conquest  of  Eng- 
land. By  JOHN  RICHARD  GREEN.  With  Maps.  8vo,  Cloth, 
$2  50;  Sheep,  $3  00;  Half  Calf,  $3  75. 

BAKER'S  ISMAILIA  :  a  Narrative  of  the  Expedition  to  Central 
Africa  for  the  Suppression  of  the  Slave-trade,  organized  by  Is- 
mail, Khedive  of  Egypt.  By  Sir  SAMUEL  W.  BAKER.  With 
Maps,  Portraits,  and  Illustrations.  8vo,  Cloth,  $5  00;  Half 
Calf,  $7  25. 

ENGLISH  MEN  OF  LETTERS.     Edited  by  JOHN  MORLEY. 
The  following  volumes  are  now  ready.     Others  will  follow : 

JOHNSON.  By  L.  Stephen.— GIBBON.  By  J.  C.  Morison.—  SCOTT.  By  R.  H. 
Hutton. — SHELLEY.  By  J.  A.  Symonds. — GOLDSMITH.  By  W.  Black. — HUMB. 
By  Professor  Huxley.— DEFOB.  By  W.  Minto.— BURNS.  By  Principal  Shairp. 
— SPENSER.  By  R.  W.  Church. — THACKERAY.  By  A.  Trollope. — BURKE.  By 
J.  Morley.— MILTON.  By  M.  Pattison.— SOUTHEY.  By  E.  Do  wden.— CHAUCER. 
By  A.  W.  Ward.— BUNYAN.  By  J.  A.  Froude.— COWPER.  By  G.  Smith.— 
POPE.  By  L.  Stephen.— BYRON.  By  J.  Nichols.— LOCKE.  By  T.  Fowler.— 
WORDSWORTH.  By  F  W.  H.  Myers.— HAWTHORNE.  By  Henry  James,  Jr.— 
DRYDEN.  By  G.  Saintsbury. — LANDOR.  By  S.  Colvin. — DE  QUINCEY,  By  D. 
Masson.— LAMB.  By  A.  Ainger.— BENTLEY.  By  R.  C.  Jebb.— DICKENS.  By 
A.  W.  Ward.— GRAY.  By  E.  W.  Gosse.— SWIFT.  By  L.  Stephen.— STERNE.  By 
H.  D.  Traill. — MACAULAY.  By  J.  C.  Morison. — FIELDING.  By  ArDobson. — 
SHERIDAN.  By  Mrs.  Oliphant.— ADDISON.  By  W.  J.  Courthope.—  BACON.  By 
R.  W.  Church.— COLERIDGE.  By  H.  D.  Traill.— SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY.  By  J.  A. 
Symonds.— KEATS.  By  S.  Colvin.  12mo,  Cloth,  75  cents  per  volume. 

POPULAR  EDITION.     36  volumes  in  12,  $12  00. 


6  Valuable  Works  for  Public  and  Private  Libraries. 

COLERIDGE'S  WORKS.  The  Complete  Works  of  Samuel  Tay- 
lor Coleridge.  With  an  Introductory  Essay  upon  his  Philosoph- 
ical and  Theological  Opinions.  Edited  by  Professor  W.  G.  T. 
SHEDD.  With  Steel  Portrait,  and  an  Index.  7  vols.,  12mo, 
Cloth,  f  2  00  per  volume ;  $12  00  per  set ;  Half  Calf,  $24  25. 

REBER'S  MEDIAEVAL  ART.  History  of  Mediaeval  Art.  By 
Dr.  FRANZ  VON  REBER.  Translated  and  Augmented  by  Joseph 
Thacher  Clarke.  With  422  Illustrations,  and  a  Glossary  of 
Technical  Terms.  8vo,  Cloth,  $5  00. 

REBER' S  HISTORY  OF  ANCIENT  ART.  History  of  Ancient 
Art.  By  Dr.  FRANZ  VON  REBER.  Revised  by  the  Author. 
Translated  and  Augmented  by  Joseph  Thacher  Clarke.  With 
310  Illustrations  and  a  Glossary  of  Technical  Terms.  8vo, 
Cloth,  $3  50. 

NEWCOMB'S  ASTRONOMY.  Popular  Astronomy.  By  SIMON 
NEWCOMB,  LL.D.  With  112  Engravings,  and  5  Maps  of  the 
Stars.  8vo,  Cloth,  $2  50  ;  School  Edition,  12mo,  Cloth,  $1  30. 

DAVIS'S  INTERNATIONAL  LAW.  Outlines  of  International 
Law,  with  an  Account  of  its  Origin  and  Sources,  and  of  its  His- 
torical Development.  By  GEO.  B.  DAVIS,  U.S.A.,  Assistant 
Professor  of  Law  at  the  United  States  Military  Academy.  Crown 
8vo,  Cloth,  $2  00. 

CESNOLA'S  CYPRUS.  Cyprus :  its  Ancient  Cities,  Tombs,  and 
Temples.  A  Narrative  of  Researches  and  Excavations  during 
Ten  Years'  Residence  in  that  Island.  By  L.  P.  DI  CESNOLA. 
With  Portrait,  Maps,  and  400  Illustrations.  8vo,  Cloth,  Extra, 
Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $7  50. 

TENNYSON'S  COMPLETE  POEMS.  The  Complete  Poetical 
Works  of  Alfred,  Lord  Tennyson.  With  an  Introductory  Sketch 
by  Anne  Thackeray  Ritchie.  With  Portraits  and  Illustrations. 
8vo,  Extra  Cloth,  Bevelled,  Gilt  Edges,  $2  50. 

LEA'S  HISTORY  OF  THE  INQUISITION.  History  of  the  In- 
quisition of  the  Middle  Ages.  By  HENRY  CHARLES  LEA.  Three 
Volumes.  8vo,  Cloth,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $3  00  per  vol. 

FLAMMARION'S  ATMOSPHERE.  Translated  from  the  French 
of  CAMILLE  FLAMMARION.  With  10  Chromo-Lithographs  and 
86  Wood-cuts.  8vo,  Cloth,  $0  00 ;  Half  Calf,  $8  25. 


Valuable  Works  for  Public  and  Private  Libraries.          7 

CHARNAY'S  ANCIENT  CITIES  OF  THE  NEW  WORLD. 

The  Ancient  Cities  of  the  New  World:  Being  Voyages  and 
Explorations  in  Mexico  and  Central  America,  from  1857  to 
1882.  By  DESIRES  CHARNAT.  Translated  by  J.  Gonino  and 
Helen  S.  Conant.  Illustrations  and  Map.  Royal  8vo,  Orna- 
mental Cloth,  Uncut  Edges,  Gilt  Tops,  $G  00. 

GROTE'S  HISTORY  OF  GREECE.  12  vols.,  12mo,  Cloth, 
$18  00  ;  Sheep,  $22  80  ;  Half  Calf,  $39  00. 

"  THE  FRIENDLY  EDITION  "  of  Shakespeare's  Works.  Edit- 
ed by  W.  J.  ROLFE.  In  20  vols.  Illustrated.  16mo,  Gilt 
Tops"  and  Uncut  Edges.  Sheets,  $27  00  ;  Cloth,  $30  00 ;  Half 
Calf,  $60  00  per  Set. 

GIESELER'S  ECCLESIASTICAL  HISTORY.  A  Text-Book 
of  Church  History.  By  Dr.  JOHN  C.  L.  GIESELER.  Translated 
from  the  Fourth  Revised  German  Edition.  Revised  and  Edited 
by  Rev.  HENRY  B.  SMITH,  D.D.  Vols.  I.,  II.,  III.,  and  IV., 
8vo,  Cloth,  $2  25  each ;  Vol.  V.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $3  00.  Complete 
Sets,  5  vols.,  Sheep,  $14  50;  Half  Calf,  $23  25. 

LIVINGSTONE'S  ZAMBESI.  Narrative  of  an  Expedition  to 
the  Zambesi  and  its  Tributaries,  and  of  the  Discovery  of  the 
Lakes  Shirwa  and  Nyassa,  1858  to  1864.  By  DAVID  and 
CHARLES  LIVINGSTONE.  Illustrated.  8vo,  Cloth,  $5  00 ;  Sheep, 
$5  50  ;  Half  Calf,  $7  25. 

LIVINGSTONE'S  LAST  JOURNALS.  The  Last  Journals  of 
David  Livingstone,  in  Central  Africa,  from  1865  to  his  Death. 
Continued  by  a  Narrative  of  his  Last  Moments,  obtained  from 
his  Faithful  Servants  Chuma  and  Susi.  By  HORACE  WALLER. 
With  Portrait,  Maps,  and  Illustrations.  8vo,  Cloth,  $5  00; 
Sheep,  $6  00. 

CURTIS'S  LIFE  OF  BUCHANAN.  Life  of  James  Buchanan, 
Fifteenth  President  of  the  United  States.  By  GEORGE  TICK- 
NOR  CURTIS.  With  Two  Steel-Plate  Portraits.  2  vols.,  8vo, 
Cloth,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  $6  00. 

GRIFFIS'S  JAPAN.  The  Mikado's  Empire :  Book  I.  History 
of  Japan,  from  660  B.C.  to  1872  A.D.  Book  II.  Personal  Ex- 
periences, Observations,  and  Studies  in  Japan,  from  1870  to 
1874.  With  Two  Supplementary  Chapters:  Japan  in  1883, 
and  Japan  in  1886.  By  W.  E.  GRIFFIS.  Copiously  Illustrated. 
8vo,  Cloth,  $4  00;  Half  Calf,  $6  25. 


8  Valuable  Works  for  Public  and  Private  Lilrarles. 

THE  POETS  AND  POETRY  OF  SCOTLAND;  From  the 
Earliest  to  the  Present  Time.  Comprising  Characteristic  Se- 
lections from  the  Works  of  the  more  Noteworthy  Scottish 
Poets,  with  Biographical  and  Critical  Notices.  By  JAMES 
GRANT  WILSON.  With  Portraits  on  Steel.  2  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth, 
$10  00;  Gilt  Edges,  $11  00. 

SCHLIEMANN'S  ILIOS.  Ilios,  the  City  and  Country  of  the 
Trojans.  A  Narrative  of  the  Most  Recent  Discoveries  and  Re- 
searches made  on  the  Plain  of  Troy.  By  Dr.  HENRY  SCHLIE- 
MANN.  Maps,  Plans,  and  Illustrations.  Imperial  8vo,  Illu- 
minated Cloth,  $12  00;  Half  Morocco,  $15  00. 

SCHLIEMANN'S  TROJA.  Troja.  Results  of  the  Latest  Re- 
searches and  Discoveries  on  the  Site  of  Homer's  Troy,  and  in 
the  Heroic  Tumuli  and  other  Sites,  made  in  the  Year  1882,  and 
a  Narrative  of  a  Journey  in  theTroad  in  1881.  By  Dr.  HEN- 
RY SCHLIEMANN.  Preface  by  Professor  A.  H.  Sayce.  With 
Wood-cuts,  Maps,  and  Plans.  8vo,  Cloth,  $7  50;  Half  Moroc- 
co, $10  00. 

fciCHWEINFURTH'S  HEART  OF  AFRICA.  Three  Years' 
Travels  and  Adventures  in  the  Unexplored  Regions  of  the  Cen- 
tre of  Africa  — from  1868  to  1871.  By  GEORG  SCHWEIN- 
FDRTH.  Translated  by  ELLEN  E.  FREWER.  Illustrated.  2  vols., 
8vo,  Cloth,  $8  00. 

SMILES'S  HISTORY  OF  THE  HUGUENOTS.  The  Hugue- 
nots: their  Settlements,  Churches,  and  Industries  in  England 
and  Ireland.  By  SAMUEL  SMILES.  With  an  Appendix  rela- 
ting to  the  Huguenots  in  America.  Crown,  8vo,  Cloth,  $2  00. 

SMILES'S  HUGUENOTS  AFTER  THE  REVOCATION.  The 
Huguenots  in  France  after  the  Revocation  of  the  Edict  of 
Nantes ;  with  a  Visit  to  the  Country  of  the  Vaudois.  By  SAM- 
UBL  SMILES.  Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  $2  00. 

(SMILES'S  LIFE  OF  THE  STEPHENSONS.  The  Life  of 
George  Stephenson,  and  of  his  Son,  Robert  Stephenson ;  com- 
prising, also,  a  History  of  the  Invention  and  Introduction  of 
the  Railway  Locomotive.  By  SAMUEL  SMILES.  Illustrated. 
8vo,  Cloth,  $3  00. 


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